Best Thing
by 74days
Summary: AU TeenWolf - In a world where the supernatural is widely known, The Others (or werewolves) are treated like Royalty. Every year, they pick a handful of people from nearby towns to Serve - unpaid. Stiles was one of the 'lucky' ones to get picked, although he's not very happy about it... Rated M for later chapters, Sterek - with a side of 'group sexy times'.
1. Chapter 1

_**"Best Thing"**_

The letter was heavy – although Stiles knew that it wasn't because of the writing inside, but the weight of the paper. It was so thick you could almost call it card, black, heavily embossed with his name and address in block white print. It was sitting on the kitchen table when he went down for breakfast, propped up against the carton of milk, just in case he'd miss it. Doubtful. He'd seen a similar letter before – his father had it framed in the living room beside his letters of graduation from the Academy. People who came into their house always took the time to read it, like it was a habit, or law.

Walk in, read the letter, smile – talk as normal. He really hadn't expected to ever own one himself. He hadn't even **_applied_**.

Stiles didn't want to be picked. He knew he wasn't the only one either, but parents insisted. It would set you up for life. Doubtful you'd even get into a good college unless you had a recommendation from an Other.

The radio was turned down low, but Stiles could still hear the announcer talking in the bright, overly happy voice of someone who was paid to be a morning person. "Today is the day! Have you got your letter? Call in, and tell the world!"

Stiles got his letter. He didn't even need to open it, because you never got anything if you weren't chosen. The Others just ignored you. He'd spent most of his life being ignored – he wasn't going to be all that concerned if the Others had just left him alone.

"You've never been so quiet in your life, son." His dad said, giving him an odd look. "This is the best thing that'll happen to you for years!" Of course his dad wouldn't understand. As far as his father was concerned, this **_was_** the biggest thing that would happen to Stiles.

"No!" He said, managing to sound happy. "I just wasn't expecting it!" If his voice was pitched a little higher than normal, his dad didn't notice – or he put it down to excitement.

"I know!" He grinned, looking at the letter with pride in his eyes. "I knew you'd be picked, of course." He said, puffing up. "Son of the Sherriff, and with me being picked all those years ago…" He paused, face clouding over for a moment, before he smiled brightly. "Best thing to happen to me."

That was what worried Stiles. Everyone who was picked said the same thing. Best thing. Best thing… but they were forbidden to mention what happened, what they did… anything. Sometimes people came back different, or not at all. His father had never once told him what he'd gone through. 'Best thing' was all he got whenever he asked. But sometimes, sometimes his face would darken, and his eyes would become hard – and Stiles was terrified of the house in the woods.

The draw though, of course, was that you'd be bitten. The Others, the Packs – if the Alpha bit you, you could become like them – become an Other too… and who didn't want a chance at that?

They said the ones that didn't come back were bitten. You had a 50/50 chance of becoming Other, but Stiles never saw that as much of an option – 50% chance of death? No thanks. You got better odds with Russian Roulette.

"I'm gonna go and… and tell Scott!" Stiles said, leaving the letter on the table. "And… and pack my stuff too, I guess."

"I made up a bag for you." His dad said, pointing to the door. "Everything you'll need they'll have – so I just put a few things, to remind you of home."

The bag was tiny – just a backpack. He took more to school. "Awesome!" He grinned, turning away so his dad wouldn't see the expression on his face. A tiny bag like that was all he got? He'd be gone… at **_least_** 6 months. The Hale pack never sent anyone back before the 6months. The longest had been about 10 years – and all he got was this tiny bag?

Stiles bolted up the stairs and pulled out his phone. They said that the Others monitored the phone calls, but Stiles wasn't so sure – unless they were really a lot more paranoid than he'd given them credit for. People still watched what they were saying though. Just in case. It only rang once.

"Dude!" Scott laughed. "I dodged it! We're gonna have the best summer ever – we can use our savings and maybe go to the beach and-"

"I got a letter." He cut in, desperate to shut Scott up.

"But you told me you didn't apply!"

"I **_didn't_**!" He said. "I think my dad might have sent one in."

"Oh." Scott said, voice sounding as downcast as his expression probably was. "That's… That's great, dude! You got picked!" He said, voice too happy, too excited to be real. "Best thing!"

"Yeah." Stiles agreed, tonelessly. "Best Thing."

* * *

He was standing at the bottom of the drive, beside the post-box with its brightly painted number on the side, when the bus drove up. It wasn't like the old beat-up school buses, this one was sleek, black – tinted windows and very, very modern. It looked more like a train that a bus.

The driver was wearing black, and he nodded to Stiles as he stepped up into the air conditioned vehicle. His dad was at the front door, watching – the whole street was standing at their doors too. Waving and congratulating him, like he was the hero of the hour. He waved to his dad before the doors shut, saw him wave back – smiling.

"Stiles?"

"Danny?" Stiles said, looking at the other people in the bus for the first time. Danny was grinning, sitting beside… oh god… Jackson. Who was looking at him like he had rabies.

"Stilinski? They picked **_you_**?" He guffawed. "I didn't think they'd be scraping the bottom of the barrel this year."

"Yeah, well, you're here." Stiles retorted.

"Sit down." The driver said, in a voice Stiles was pretty sure was meant to be obeyed. He had the smallest bag, slung over his shoulder. Jackson had a set of cases – Stiles wondered if things had changed since his dad's time.

He sat down by a blond haired boy he'd seen around school.

"I'm Stiles." He said with what he hoped was a friendly smile. "Stilinski."

"Isaac Lahey." He said, softly. He had a black eye and a pretty frail look about him – frailer than Stiles at least – even though he was taller. He didn't even have a bag with him, by the looks of things. Pretty, Stiles thought, really pretty. So Was Danny, and – although it caused him physical pain to even think it – so was Jackson. The big guy at the back looked pretty buff too. There was a blond girl sitting on the back seat – and that was it. The bus didn't stop again. So it was just going to be the 6 of them. Stiles sighed, looking over Isaac and out of the window. He really wished his dad had told him what to expect, because his mind was full of some pretty sinister thoughts as they left the town and drove deeper into the forests. There was a wide gate that swung open as the bus approached, and the small brightly polished brass plate clearly said:

Hale Pack Territory.

Balls. Stiles thought, swallowing deeply. There was no way this was how he wanted to spend the next 6 months. No matter what everyone said – there was no escaping the truth. You were chosen to serve. You spent 6 month or longer – depending on how much they liked you – as an unpaid servant. You did what you were **_told_**.

And Stiles really wasn't good at doing what he was told. **_At all_**.

* * *

The house was massive, of course – although it was well after dark before they arrived. Lights shining through the many windows. Stiles quickly worked out there would be about 100 windows, if not more. Someone was going to have to clean those. He hoped it wouldn't be him – he liked to have his feet firmly on the ground, less chance of him falling to his death.

Of course, the bus didn't stop at the front of the house. That was for guests, not… whatever they were. Staff? Servants? It pulled up at the back of the massive building and stopped.

"Right, out." The driver said, opening the doors. Stiles was the nearest, so he grabbed his bag and stepped down, catching his foot on the step and almost faceplanting on the gravel.

"Nice first impression, Stilinski." Jackson said, pushing Isaac out of the way and hitting the ground with both feet like the unfairly well balanced person he was. Stiles glared, heart thumping too loudly in his chest to come up with a reply. The driver lifted the cases that the others had brought, and put them on the gravel where they stood before closing the doors and driving off, tires crunching on the gravel.

It was dark, although the lights from inside the house (mansion? Stiles wondered. It really should be a mansion) meant that they were pretty well illuminated. There was no movement though – and after a few minutes of waiting, Stiles started getting antsy.

"You think they knew we're here?" He asked Isaac, who just nodded, eyes fixed on the door. "I mean, with those senses they probably know, right?" He added, more for his own benefit that a real question. "You think they'll have like… other people here? Or do you think we'll be the only huma-"

"Shut up, Stilinski." Jackson snapped. "Just stop talking." He said, as the door opened and a man, tall – dark haired stepped out, a clipboard. He didn't look 'Other' but then… Stiles had never actually seen one in person. They were all over TV and magazines, but it wasn't like you saw them in the street – or going to school.

"Whittemore, Jackson?" He said, not looking up from his board.

"Yes?"

"Lahey, Isaac?"

"Here."

"Milton, Boyd?"

"Here."

"Reyes, Erica?"

"Yes."

"Mahealani, Daniel?"

"Here."

"Stilinski…ahem…" He paused, looking up and frowning at him before referring to his clipboard.

"Stiles." He said, "Just call me Stiles."

"Stilinski, _Stiles_." He finished, looking them over critically. "You will follow me, in silence. Leave the cases." He added, before turning around and walking back into the house. Isaac was the first to move, the rest trailing behind. The house was warmer than he expected, with wood panelling and deep carpeting. Stiles thought it looked like old money. Which of course, it was.

**_Very_** old.

The corridor had a few twists and turns, Stiles was already lost when the man stopped at the end, opening the door that was there and stepping through into the room.

Barracks. It was the first word that Stiles thought of and it fitted the place perfectly. There were 6 beds in a row, with 6 chests at the bottom. One door – leading to bathrooms, or shower rooms he figured. That was it. Not even a bookcase.

"You will find your clothes in the lockers. You will shower, dress and be ready to leave here within 30 minutes." The man said, before turning and walking out, the door closing with an almost silent click.

"This is it?" The girl called Erica said, looking about. "This is the **_best thing_** to happen to us?"

"I think we should just do what we are told." Isaac murmured. "I don't think it would be a good idea to start… badly."

Stiles agreed. Stiles agreed very, **_very_** strongly.

* * *

Communal showering, all well and good for the guys, but Erica looked pissed as all hell. The boys turned their backs to try and give her some privacy, but Jackson made them all feel awkward with his comments about dropping the soap. By the end of their (very quick) shower, Stiles wanted to punch him, and by the look on Erica's face when She'd stormed out wrapped in a towel, he wasn't the only one.

She dried herself in the toilet stall, while the rest of them quickly rubbed down with the rough grey towels. The clothes in the footlockers were identical. Black cargo trousers with a few zipped pockets, white t-shirts and black button up shirts. Black underwear, black socks, black soft soled training shoes. Everything fit. Stiles was expecting Erica to have something different, but she walked out of the shower room dressed just like them.

They had picked beds. Stiles was nearest the door – probably the one right in the way of the draft, and then Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Danny and (of course) Jackson got the best bed – the once near the window and the radiator. Danny had tried to make him give it to Erica, but then Jackson had started bitching about how that was sexist, and when he started arguing... it was just easier to give him what he wanted.

So they were sitting on the edges of the beds they had picked, and waited. They had to wait – there wasn't anything else to do.

There was a beeping – a high pitched three tone beep that got your attention without even being that loud, as the man with the clipboard walked back in to their room.

"Good. Follow me. Silence in this part of the house."

They filed out, Jackson, furthest away from the door still managed to be the first out – elbowing Stiles out of the way. He didn't really mind. Trailing at the back of the group gave him a little time to look about him, time to think. They walked through the house again, this time going to different way. The furnishings were elaborate, expensive and well looked after. They didn't see any other people.

"The family will see you now." The man said, gesturing to an open door. "Speak only when spoken to."

They filed in, Jackson at the head and Stiles bringing up the rear – into what must have been some kind of office, or study. Dark wood and green leather, it reeked of money, class and privilege, but Stiles didn't really notice anything else, because they were there. The Others. The 'Were.

The Hale Pack of Beacon Hills.

* * *

**_Thanks for taking the time to read this, and I hope that you like what is to come!_**

**_I really appreciate any feedback, so please let me know what you think. :D_**

**_Love you lots like Jelly Tots!_**


	2. Chapter 2

**_The Hale Pack._**

There were 5 of them – an older woman, Peter Hale (Stiles recognised him from TV) a younger girl, about their age, Derek – no mistaking him – and of course… Laura Hale. The Alpha.

It seemed monumentally unfair that aside from being blessed with the awesome power and senses of the werewolf – they were also stupidly attractive. They said that if you were bitten, you appeared more desirable to humans. Stiles looked around the room and realised that perhaps that wasn't the case, and they just picked pretty humans to start with. Danny was already hot, Isaac had those cheekbones… he was the only one who looked like a regular, scrawny high school kid out of the pick. He wondered if they had known what he looked like when they'd chosen him. The applications required photos.

But Stiles **_hadn't_** applied – maybe his dad used his lacrosse photo, if he'd sent the application in? The one where he was in all his padding? Would the wolves be seriously **_pissed_** that they'd been cheated out of a looker? His heart started to beat faster as his brain imagined all the things that they could do to him if they were pissed. Rip him in half? Torture him? Send him home before time? He paused at that thought. No one had ever been sent home before time. **_Ever_**. Oh God – if he got sent home he'd never live it down.

"I want the twins." The older man said, gutting through the rambling thoughts of Stiles mind like a hot knife through butter. Twins? What twins?

The man with the clip board, standing behind them said: "Isaac Lahey and Erica Reyes. Step forward." They looked at each other in confusion before stepping forward. They weren't twins – they weren't even related as far as Stiles knew. They didn't act like they even **_knew_** one another.

"Peter Hale." The man said, walking around the two humans in a lazy circle. He looked at the other two 'Were, who were watching him with blank expressions. "I told you they'd match. Gibson," He said, looking back at Isaac and Erica. "Will give you a new work plan." His voice was smooth, calm – but with an edge of power. Stiles had seen him on TV before, flirting with chat show hosts. "You will do as I say, without question." He added. "Of course."

Isaac nodded, a fraction of a second before Erica. _Someone is keen_, Stiles thought. No doubt he probably thought he might get the Bite. Stiles wondered how Isaac got that black eye – if his life was so bad that even a 50% chance of dying was worth the risk.

"I'll take the big one." The older woman said, pointing at Boyd. Her silver hair was well styled, dressed in a grey pant suit.

"I'll take the other two." Laura said, pointing to Jackson and Danny.

Which left Stiles.

"That will be all." The Alpha said, nodding to Gibson.

* * *

Stiles just **_knew_** he was getting sent home. Jackson found the idea hysterical, telling him just how mortified he'd have been if he hadn't been picked. No one else said anything, because it was true.

He hadn't been picked.

There were sleeping clothes in the foot lockers. Black t-shirts and shorts. Stiles curled into his bed numbly – mind blank for the first time in years.

"I'm sure it's okay." Isaac whispered, from his own bed. "Jackson doesn't know what happens here either. It might be normal."

Stiles nodded, as the high pitched beeping started – right before the lights went off.

* * *

Someone was shaking him awake. He opened his eyes blearily, and for a moment forgot he wasn't in his own bed. Gibson was standing there, looking unchanged, clipboard still in his hand.

"Shower, dress. You have 15 minutes before feeding."

Stiles nodded, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. Everyone else was sleeping soundly. "Should I wake them?"

"No. They were chosen." Gibson said, "Make the bed. Fold the sleepwear." Gibson talked in short bursts, everything clipped and perfect. "You have 13 minutes."

* * *

Stiles stood, hair still damp, in the kitchen. There were people, the first he'd seen since arriving – he didn't count Gibson. Stiles wasn't even sure if Gibson **_was_** human.

"You will take the food to the Family." He was saying, pointing to the trays. Stiles actually heard the capital F in 'Family'. "Then you will wait until they have eaten, and bring the trays back. Then – unless asked to do a task by a member of the Family – you may eat." He handed Stiles a printed day plan. A quick glance told him everything he needed to know. He wasn't getting sent home, at least.

Luckily, behind the door of the kitchen, there was a floor plan, with his route mapped out. Laura, as the Alpha must _always_ be served first. Then 'Abigail' the older woman, then Peter, Sarah (the teenager) and finally Derek – who was not to be disturbed – food was to be left at his door with a discrete knock.

It started off pretty easy – He had a trolley with the food (which smelled fucking amazing to a teenager who had yet to have breakfast) and all he needed to do was take it to the Others.

He tapped politely on Laura Hales door, and waited a full 5 seconds before quietly opening. Gibson had been quite clear about how he was supposed to act, how long he had to wait, what he should say if spoken to.

The Alpha was still in bed, back to him as he walked through the door, carefully holding the tray. In his head he was reciting the instructions over and over, like a mantra. _Walk in, put the tray on the table beside the large chair, remove the cover, leave_. Although he knew that the werewolf in the bed would be able to hear him, after all, they had those senses, she didn't make any move to show that she was awake. As he shut the door silently behind him, he took a moment to calm his racing heart. So far, so good.

Abigail, the older woman, was sitting up in bed when he quietly opened the door. She pointed to the table at her side. "Just here." She said, her voice clear. He nodded and carefully set the tray down, pulling off the cover and walking out, never turning his back to her.

Peter wasn't even in bed – Stiles nearly had a heart attack when he opened the door and the wolf was standing wrapped in a dressing gown. "Put it there." He commanded, and Stiles did exactly what he was told, trying to stop his hands from shaking. "Good boy." He said, as Stiles walked out, backwards. _Okay, so that was utterly terrifying_. Stiles thought shakily.

Sarah was still in bed, and, like Laura, made no move to show she was aware of his presence. That was much better than he'd expected.

Derek's room was on the other side of the hallway – Stiles give his polite knock, placing the tray on the table by the door.

He pushed his now empty trolley to the end of the hallway, hearing the click open and close of Derek door as he took his food into his room, and waited. Gibson had told him once the Others left their rooms he was to go back in and pick up the trays and take them back down to the kitchen. Then he'd be able to get something to eat.

He was still standing 2 hours later, when Isaac and Erica showed up, walking down the hallway. "Where have you been?" Isaac whispered as he walked past. "You've missed breakfast."

Stiles shrugged. "I guess I'm the one that does the morning rounds?" He whispered back, watching as Erica gave him a pitying look and knocked gently on Peters door, waiting a full 5 seconds before entering, Isaac right behind her. "Ah, there you are!" He heard Peter say, before the door closed behind them. His tone gave Stiles the shivers.

It wasn't long before Danny, Boyd and Jackson arrived – walking past him in silence. They knocked, waited and entered, Danny throwing him a half-hearted smile before closing the door.

Sarah Hale was the first to leave her room, not looking at him as she walked past. Stiles waited until she was gone before he collected the tray of half eaten food, his stomach growling unpleasantly.

Peter a few minutes later, now dressed – Isaac and Erica walking a few steps behind him as he ignored Stiles. Erica gave him a quick glance and a smile, but Isaac was focused entirely on Peter. _Yup_, Stiles thought. _Someone wants the bite badly._ Laura and Abigail left not long after that, Abigail leaning on Boyd's arm as she limped past. Stiles had never seen an Other with any kind of imperfection before – although he knew that the Hale Pack had once been attacked by terrorists who believed that the Other were a scourge. Everyone knew that the Hale Pack had once been much larger, but the terrorists had killed most of them.

It was one of the reasons that the growing and owning of Wolfsbane was highly illegal – life imprisonment for anyone who was remotely connected to it – in case something like that was to happen again. He stacked the empty breakfast plates on the trolley and waited for Derek to show. He was the only Hale that wasn't well known, he'd never tried to seek fame. Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't photographed everywhere– most Others were famous for **_something_**. Writing, sports, acting, singing – you really couldn't make it in life unless you had some kind of supernatural edge.

They learned in history that once they had hidden from humans, lived on the outskirts of society. Stiles couldn't even imagine a world without knowing about werewolves. It was a part of life – like left handed people or natural blonds. They just… they were **_better_**. Better at everything, and they helped town out. Like the new library in Beacon Hills – or the lacrosse pitch, with its new lighting. And they didn't really ask for anything.

Well… aside from the yearly intake of 'Chosen' like Stiles. Who went to work and sometimes didn't come home. Then again, those that went and **_did_** return, they had a good life – his dad graduated and became sheriff of Beacon Hills with no opposition. Mr Harris graduated and got a teaching job at the high school he once went to, without even needing an interview. If you got the letter, you got ahead. People respected you.

Then… there was the bite – get bitten, become Other. Get the fame, fortune and (Stiles grinned to himself) fur. Heightened senses, athletic grace and – according to every magazine Stiles had ever read – sexual prowess.

Derek's room door though, remained firmly shut. Gibson had told him that he was not to leave until he had all the plates back on the trolley – and Stiles really didn't think that he was the kind of person that would take well to Stiles popping off for something to eat when he was supposed to be doing something else. No matter how trivial.

Another hour passed, the chiming of the clock hitting Noon. He'd been standing in the hallway for four hours, awake for 5 – and still hadn't had anything to eat.

On the last chime though, Derek's door opened, and Stiles almost sagged with relief. That was, of course, until Derek looked right at him. "You," He snapped. "Here," then disappeared back into his room.

"Polite, much?" Stiles muttered under his breath, only to find himself face to face with the glowing blue eyes of Derek Hale.

He later figured it was pretty cool of him not to wet himself with fear.

"What did you say?" The wolf snapped, and Stiles could see those white fangs inches from his face.

"Nothing. I said nothing. I'm pretty good at saying nothing. In fact I'm going to start saying nothing now." He managed to squeak.

"Clean this place." Derek snapped, before stalking out and slamming the door behind him.

"Yes, sir." Stiles said. "Cleaning right now. Right after I take these plates to the kitchen and expire of hunger, I'm going to clean the hell out of this… " He looked around. "Dump."

* * *

The kitchen only had one person in it, Gibson. "Where have you been?" He demanded, looking at the clock over the door.

"Derek only just left his room, and he wants me to clean it." Stiles said. "I'm gonna just grab something to eat-"

"You'll go now." Gibson said, in clipped tones. "When asked to perform a task, you do it." He pointed to another trolley, loaded with cleaning supplies and a vacuum. "Eat when you're done."

* * *

Derek Hale might have been well known on the pages of gossip magazines that were always full of photographs of his kind – arm around some famous starlet – but his living space was a **_dump_**. There was no other way of putting it. Clothes, books, papers – Stiles was pretty sure half his wardrobe was on the floor, his massive bookshelves were empty and the contents in piles on every available surface. The bed was unmade – covered with notebooks and sheets of paper.

Stiles didn't even know where to start. At home, he normally just sniffed his clothes to see what was too far gone to wear, but he wasn't sure if that was the best option with an Others clothes.

So he started with the books, picking them up and stacking them into the empty shelves. If there was one thing Stiles loved, it was books – a few times he had to stop himself from opening the leather bound tombs and just reading a few pages. He put them up in order of size, and colour. It took him over 2 hours, just to get the massive amount of books back on the shelves.

He then carefully picked up the note books scattered around the floor, making sure that they were placed neatly and in order on the desk. He hadn't really gotten a good look at the other rooms, but he thought Derek might be the only one with a computer. The lose paper that was scattered all over the floor, Stiles picked up carefully. Neat handwriting in a language he couldn't read, and a few drawings in the margins. There didn't seem to be a system, but that didn't mean that the 'Were wasn't using one. No one ever understood Stiles notes.

He picked them up the best way he could and then moved into the clothes, ignoring the sounds his stomach was making. Figuring that if was good enough for him, it'd be good enough for the wolf, Stiles picked up a t-shirt and sniffed it. Stale sweat, he gagged, throwing it on a clear space of floor. The next one, no smell – new pile. He worked his way through the shirts and vests that way, underwear (good lord, gross) just went right in the 'laundry pile' and jeans went in the clean pile.

He was actually getting into a rhythm half way through, as the piles got larger. He stripped the bed too – just in case the dude was as smelly as his clothes – and was dancing to the memory of a song when Derek walked back through the room.

"You still here?" He snapped, freezing Stiles in place for a moment. He really didn't like having his head bitten off.

"It took me hours just to get through the books, dude!" He found himself arguing, before his brain kicked in. "Do I look like Mary Poppins to-" He stopped mid-sentence, self-preservation kicking in. "Shutting up." He finished, under the bright blue glare of the 'Were. His stomach made a pitiful sound, half a whine, half a gurgle – and he couldn't help his blush.

"Make the bed and get out." Derek snapped. "And tell Gibson to bring my food here."

Stiles grabbed the 'dirty' pile of laundry and left – moving at top speed to the kitchen – which was bustling with life. A despairing glance at the clock showed it was well after 4pm. He **_still_** hadn't eaten.

"What are you doing with those?" Someone snapped at him.

"I don't know where the laundry room is."

"Next door."

"Derek said he wants his food in his room." Stiles remembered to add, pleased he hadn't forgotten. Everyone in the kitchen turned to face him with the same expression. "Derek spoke to you?" Gibson said, appearing through the doorway.

"Yeah. He told me that he wants his food in his room."

"He always has his food in his room." Gibson said. "We already know."

"Yeah, well..." Stiles shrugged. "He told me to tell you, I did." Stiles turned and walked out of the kitchen – seeing now the door with the sign 'Laundry', he'd walked right past it. Pushing the door open, he almost missed the comment from one of the kitchen workers.

"Did he say Derek actually **_spoke_** to him?"

"Apparently so."

"But he doesn't speak to **_anyone_**."

"He does now." Gibson said. "Back to work."

* * *

_**Well, thank you all so much for the reviews! I know the story has really only just started, and it'll take a while to get going - everyone loves a long story to keep them going, right? - but I really appreciate the time you all took :D**_

_**For all my readers from 'Out Of Milk' HELLO! Nice to see so many familiar faces and to all the new people, don't be strangers, you can pop me a PM or follow me and Tumblr (bmwiid) or Twitter (bmwiid) if you'd like to ask me something - I don't bite!**_

_**This is my first AU Story so there will probably be a few inconsistencies, I'll try to keep them down. Not sure if I'll be able to update every day like the last story, but I'll do my very best!**_

_**Love you mostly like beans on toasty!**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**The Games Room**_

Stiles remembered to check for any red socks in the washer before he threw in the clothes. He'd gone to school for the better part of a year with pink underwear because of that – he didn't think Derek Hale would be too happy if he dyed his clothes.

The washers were huge, industrial monsters that threw out hot air like bellows. Stiles leaned his head against one, just for a moment.

"You'd better not let Gibson catch you sleeping." A voice said, and Stiles turned to see Sarah, the Other. She was sitting on top of a free-standing cabinet – head touching the roof. Stiles choked back a yelp of surprise. She was watching him with curious blue eyes. "You're one of the new ones, right?"

"Yes," Stiles said, remembering his manners at the last moment. "Miss."

"Don't tell anyone you saw me. No one really comes in here through the day – and I like to be left alone."

"I'm just leaving." Stiles said, quickly, stuffing the rest of the clothes into the washer. "I need to get back up to make his bed."

She sniffed the air in a way that made the short hairs on the back of Stiles neck rise up. "Derek's bed?"

"Ah, yeah. I've been cleaning."

"In Derek's room?" She said, looking at him oddly.

"Yes." Stiles replied, slamming the washer door shut and setting up the wash cycle, adding powder. "For **_hours_**. I'm about to expire from hunger, not that he ca…" He trailed off. "I mean, it's such an honour, to… like… serve."

He wasn't expecting Sarah to laugh, but she did, smothering it with her hand. "You're the first person to ever say that and **_not_** mean it." She grinned, and he smiled back, unthinking. "The bedding is in here." She said, thumping the cabinet she was sitting on. "Derek's stuff is grey – like his mood."

He grinned up at her, opening the door. Sure enough, it was all colour coded. He pulled out the grey set and sighed. "You think he'll let me away for food after this?"

"Depends." She smiled down at him, before leaping gracefully down. Stiles had almost forgot she was an Other, a werewolf, but that movement reminded him full force. She might smile and laugh, but she was still a much higher class of person than he would ever be. "He's never really let anyone in his room." She threw over her shoulder as she walked out. "You'll want to hurry though – you'll be expected to serve at dinner."

* * *

Stiles got back to Derek's room, holding the fresh bedding in his arms, when he almost walked head first into Laura Hale, flanked by Danny and Jackson. He managed not to fall over his own feet when he stopped, ignoring Jackson's snide smirk and returning Danny's open smile. He wondered what they had been doing – and if it had been anything like his day, which had managed to suck balls. Laura glanced his way only once as she walked past him, expression blank.

Stiles knocked at Derek's door, waited the 5 seconds and walked in. The werewolf was sitting, back to the door – reading something online. Stiles hadn't been near a computer in 24 hours. He wondered if his warcraft guild thought he was dead – or if they assumed he'd gotten a letter.

Derek didn't make any move to acknowledge that Stiles was in the room, so he shrugged and started making the bed. There was a difference between the werewolfs bed and his own one at home – namely it was much larger than his single – so it took him much longer than he expected to make. He was just throwing the pillows back on the freshly made bed when there was a knock at the door. Stiles looked at Derek, who had not moved to show he'd even heard it. After a few moments though – Derek waved a hand over his shoulder. "Bring that in, then go."

Stiles practically ran to the door, opening it wide to see the covered tray of food, the smell making his mouth water. He'd never been so hungry in his life. Carefully picking it up, he put it down on the small table beside Derek, trying not to notice that the wolf was glaring at him as he removed the cover.

"Get out." He snapped, once Stiles took a step back. He didn't need to be told twice, practically bolting out of the room and down towards the kitchen, where his nose was picking up all different lovely smells.

"Where the hell have you been?" Gibson snapped as Stiles burst into the steaming room. Everything smelled delicious, heavenly – he almost swooned at the thought of eating.

"I was making Derek's bed." He replied, wondering if they had tight portion control for the 'chosen' or if they were just allowed to eat whatever they wanted. He really hoped he was just allowed to eat what he wanted, and he was going to start with that chicken – gold and perfectly roasted.

"You are too late to help with the serving." Gibson said, and Stiles could tell he was furious – the slight twitch of his eye betraying his mood.

"I did everything as fast as I could!" Stiles argued. "It's not my fault he told me to-"

"Silence!" Gibson snapped, glaring. "You are expected to serve dinner at exactly 5 o'clock. If you are late again you will be given other, more distasteful tasks."

"What the hell, dude!" Stiles bit back. "I've been awake since 7am and I've had **_nothing_** to eat – I've spent the whole day cleaning up after a spoilt brat who can't even make his own bed and you're bitching at me?" The room was totally silent as he continued. "I've not had a fucking pee break – but that's okay because I've not had anything to drink since yesterday – and you're telling me I'm going to be.. what? Punished? What are you gonna do? **_Starve_** me?" He laughed, although there was no humour in it. "Isn't that what you've been **_doing_**?"

* * *

He didn't know what he was expecting, really, as he sat on the edge of his bed. He called an **_Other_** – Derek Hale – a spoilt brat. His dad was probably getting a call now, about how disappointed they were in his son – he was getting sent back. He'd not even lasted a day.

He honestly thought Gibson was going to have a heart attack – the way the vein in his forehead was throbbing.

So Stiles was sitting on the bed, still with nothing to eat, head throbbing and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. With a sigh, he looked about. This place didn't seem like the best thing a person could do. He'd actually rather be at school than here. He'd rather be anywhere.

From the corner of his eye, he saw his backpack – and reached out for it. He wondered what his dad thought was required for staying in this hell-hole. He tipped the bag out onto the bed. A couple of comics, a few school books, a notepad, a pen and… Stiles almost choked on his own breath – a box of condoms. Why the hell did his dad think he was going to be needing **_condoms_**?! His dad, who knew Stiles track record was making a total ass of himself in front of Lydia Martin every day for the past 10 years. Give or take.

His letter was there too – seal still unbroken. He forgot he'd not even opened it, just left it on the table. Perhaps his dad thought it would remind him of how 'lucky' he was, to be chosen.

Stiles stuffed everything back into the backpack, checking the pockets to see if there was any snacks, but they were all empty. Sighing, he threw himself on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. His dad was going to be so disappointed in him, not even lasting a day.

Three high pitched beeps got his attention a few moments later – door opening.

"You will present yourself to Miss Sarah Hale, who has asked for you." Gibson said, holding the door open. "Now." As Stiles walked past, he could see the disdain in the older man's eyes. _Well, I can't stand you either_, Stiles thought, walking past.

"Miss Hale is in the games room." Gibson said. "Follow me."

* * *

The games room turned out to be… well… not what he was expecting. The rest of the house was so old fashioned, Stiles hadn't even seen a telephone – and this place was… was… **_Heaven_**.

"Is that the new Playstation?" He gasped. It wasn't even on the shelves yet. PC's, consoles, pinball machines, stacks of board games, boxes of jigsaws… everything that was good and pure in Stiles world. Sarah was sitting at a green felt table, playing a game with tiles. Mah-jong, Stiles thought, but he'd only ever played it on his computer, he'd never seen it played properly.

"That will be all, Gibson." She said, in a bored voice, not even looking up. Stiles heard the soft click of the door behind him as Sarah carefully matched two tiles and put them to one side. She glanced up at him then and smiled. "Derek finally let you away?" She said, looking back down at the board.

"Ah, yeah." Stiles said, unsure what to do.

"You weren't at dinner."

"No, I was… um… I was…"

"Already fallen out with Gibson then?" She laughed. "Every year someone does, you know. You'd think he'd learn."

"Happens a lot?"

"Oh, yeah!" She nodded, matching another two tiles. "He was chosen once, years ago, before Laura was Alpha – and we kept him. He thinks being stuck here is the best thing in the world." She grinned. "He thinks everyone new is going to take his place. He's okay, really, just a bit… **_dull_**." She glanced at him then, eyes bright blue. "I read your file. It says you like to play online games."

"Uh, yeah." Stiles said, wondering just how much information they had on the people who came into their lives. People said that they had files on everyone, ones that detailed your whole life – but Stiles wasn't too sure.

"Do you play WoW?"

"Yeah, I do." He said, trying to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice. This was an Other – a werewolf – a seriously good looking girl of his own age. They didn't think that online games were all that cool – Scott's girlfriend Alison's expression when he'd let it slip that he played said it all.

"What do you play?"

"Human rogue."

"Gnome warrior here." She said, eyes glinting.

"Are you serious?" Stiles laughed, glancing at the PC's lining the wall. "Max level?"

"Well, duh – do I look like a noob to you?" She said getting to her feet and walking towards the computers. "We've got StarWars too – if you play that."

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way or anything… but I think we need to get married and live happily ever after in Stormwind." When she laughed, Stiles grinned. "I've got a max level Jedi Shadow."

"Lets roll on the darkside. I wanna be a Bounty Hunter."

"I'll be an Imperial." Stiles said, hunger forgotten as he sat at the PC and logged into his account. "They share a starting world."

"I'm really glad you're here. " She said, sitting down at the computer beside him. "No one else they've picked plays." She grinned, logging on.

* * *

"CC!" Stiles called, hitting several keys in a row. "Get the healer!"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Sarah hissed, "My stun is on cooldown! Don't kite him over there– you'll pull the trash."

"I know!" Stiles retorted. "He's going!" He called. "He's down!"

"Alright!" Sarah said, punching the air. "Nice one!"

"Another fucking marauder weapon." Stiles groaned. "I'm never gonna get an upgrade at this rate."

He almost missed the polite cough behind them – Sarah spinning around on her chair. "Laura!" She said. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"I've been standing here for half an hour." She said, looking at Sarah with fondness. "It's after midnight. Bed."

"Can't we just play a little longer?" Sarah whined, throwing puppy eyes at the Alpha. Stiles could hardly believe it – he'd just spent the better part of 6 hours playing a computer game with an Other. More importantly… a **_girl_**.

"No." Laura laughed, and Stiles had never heard her laugh – not even on TV at the big televised Alpha Council, where they all got together to discuss world events and pack politics. They were normally pretty rowdy, but Laura was always composed. "Bed." She glanced at Stiles, who was starting to remember that he **_still_** hadn't had anything to eat. "You too."

"Yes, Miss." He said, turning and using his quick travel to get to a cantina before logging off. Best thing? **_Maybe_**.

Stiles crawled into bed, trying to be as silent as possible. He'd managed to get changed in the shower room, and made his way back to his bed in the dark.

"You okay?" Isaac whispered.

"Yeah – I didn't mean to wake you." He whispered back.

"It's okay." The blond boy said, voice so quiet Stiles could hardly make it out. "What do you think?"

"About?"

"**_Them_**."

"Some of them seem okay."

"Yeah." The teen in the other bed said. "Some of them."

"Are **_you_**okay?" He asked, he didn't think spending all day with Peter would be awesome fun. There was something… off about the man.

"Yeah." He heard Isaac turn around. "Night."

"Night."

* * *

I am a huge WoW / SWTOR player - and I'd like to think Stiles was too - so yeah, that part was me just adding in my own little part just for me :D

Totally changed my original idea for this - so... lets see where the characters take us - hell, it worked last time!

Thanks for all the great reviews - I mean, we've only just started and you're totally blowing me away with all the love :D

Love you like... Dean Loves that Impala!


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles was shaken awake. This time he knew before he even opened his eyes that he wasn't at home. He'd had very little sleep, his stomach cramping terribly from hunger. He'd gotten up in the night to drink the water from the sink faucet, and that had helped a little – but now he was reminded in full force that he hadn't had anything to eat in over 24 hours.

"Shower. Kitchen. 15 minutes." Gibson said, before stalking out. The others were still asleep, and for a moment, Stiles wanted to kick each one of them as he walked to the showers. He didn't understand why he was being treated so differently. The shower was nice though, he stood for a few minutes just standing under the hot spray, letting it soothe his body. Too soon though, he knew he had to get moving. The last thing he needed today was Gibson riding his ass.

* * *

The trays of food were already on the trolley, and Stiles didn't need to be told what to do – he pushed it up to the rooms and politely knocked on the wide wooden doors of each of the Werewolves. Laura, Abigail and even Peter were all still in bed, only Abigail was sitting up. "Just here." She said, pointing to the table at her bedside.

Sarah was awake though – sitting on the edge of her bed, already dressed.

"Hey, Stiles." She grinned as he walked in, tray in his hand. "Good game last night, huh?"

He wasn't able to keep the smile out of his voice. "Yeah, pretty good."

"If you aren't doing anything later – like tonight or whatever – you could come play some more." There was a definite questioning tone in her voice, but it wasn't a question.

"That would be cool." Stiles smiled, pulling the cover off the food and trying not to drool at the smell. "If Gibson'll let me."

"I'll tell him." She said, grabbing the toast and taking a bite. "Don't worry about him – I can't believe they actually picked someone cool this time." She grinned at him, mouth full. "You play GuildWars?"

"I was in the beta, but… nah – not for me."

"You're playing it wrong, then." She laughed, before sniffing the air. "You better go feed Derek, he's awake."

Stiles nodded, backing out of the room and closing the door behind him. The smell of the food was killing him.

Pushing the trolley down the hall, he knocked and lifted the tray onto the table outside Derek's door. He was about to turn back when he heard "Bring it in." from the other side.

**_Typical_**.

He pushed open the door and, tray in hand, walked in – before stopping dead in his tracks.

Derek was shirtless, which Stiles was okay with – he'd seen perfect abs before – but what caught his breath and his attention was the room. It was a **_mess_**.

Books that he'd stacked onto shelves were all over the floor, paper everywhere. Clothes, strewn about in piles and the bed – sheets pulled off and the mattress underneath exposed.

"What the hell, dude?" Stiles said, looking about. "I cleaned this place yesterday!"

The werewolf glared at him, eyes glowing bright blue for a moment – enough to remind Stiles that he really shouldn't be running his mouth at this man.

"Put the food there." Derek snapped, pointing at the table by the PC. "Then clean this up. Make the bed **_properly_** this time." He said, walking into the bathroom. "The sheets came off in the night."

Stiles couldn't glare at the man if he wasn't in the room, so he satisfied himself with glaring at the closed bathroom door as he put the tray down. He kept the cover over the food to keep it warm and started picking up the books around the place. They weren't all on the floor, he noticed. A few were still on the shelves – not that it made it any better. _What an arsehole_. Stiles thought viciously as he thumped the books back on the shelves. _He knew I spent hours here yesterday –he's done this just to be a dick._

He was half way through the books when Derek came back out the bathroom, a towel slung low about his hips and hair with water droplets hanging from the spiked tips. **_Damn_**, Stiles thought, trying not to look. That towel looked really, **_really_** low. Stiles could see the trail of hair that lead… dear god – lack of food was making him delirious. He really didn't need to be looking at Derek Hale like that.

He'd not even really admitted to himself that he was into guys. He wasn't even sure if he was –I mean, he still was in love with Lydia, and she was 100% all girl. So… who cared if he sometimes the porn he looked at online was guys? Or how most of his sex dreams… He shook his head clear of those thoughts. The last thing he needed was to get a hard-on in Derek Hales bedroom. People said they could smell stuff like that – it was one of the 'perks' of being an Other. It went hand in hand with the 'awesome at sex' thing, he guessed.

Turning his back on the wolf, Stiles picked up the nearest book and pushed it back onto the shelves. He didn't even bother trying to get them in any kind of order – after all, the dick would just end up pulling them out all over again. He could smell when the werewolf pulled the cover off the food – the scent of bacon and eggs and grease made his stomach growl angrily.

Trying to fight the urge to dive head-first into the plate of food, Stiles walked over to the bed, pulling back the sheets and covers. He hated the stupid bed – he couldn't get good corners with the sheet. He was climbing over the bed, trying to tuck the sheet behind the headboard when he noticed Derek was staring at him.

He looked back, aware that his expression clearly wasn't the 'humble servant' that Derek probably got off on. Hell, they all probably jerked off thinking about the pathetic humans they had waiting on them hand and foot.

"Why are you making those noises?" Derek said, sounding more grumpy than pissed.

"I'm not making any noises!" Stiles retorted, tucking in the sheet. "Trust me, I'd know if I was making noises because I'd be able to hear them." He scrambled off the bed and smoothed out the sheet where he'd been leaning on it.

"Your body." Derek said, rolling his eyes. "Is making sounds."

"Oh." Stiles said, looking at the sheet critically. "That would be starvation kicking in. Apparently if I'm asked to spend hours at a time cleaning a bedroom, then doing laundry, then getting locked in my room for talking back to Gibson – I don't have time to eat." He paused, picking up the covers on the floor and giving them a good shake. "So yeah – feeding Stiles isn't happening." He put the covers on the bed and smoothed them out with the flat of his hand. "If my dad told me to do something like this I'd normally say something like '_what did your last slave die of?_' but here I'm pretty sure you **_starved_** them to death."

"You talk too much."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure it said that in my file or whatever – I'm pretty sure Sarah said something about my file, so why don't you ju-"

"Sarah?"

"Yeah. Sarah. Lives here, tall, brown hair – plays a badass Bounty Hunter?"

"You talked to Sarah?"

"For like 6 hours or something, dude. Not **_everyone_** treats me like shit in this place." Stiles picked up the pillows and fluffed them viciously. "I might not be much to look at, but I can kick your ass at Hutt Ball, so," he threw the pillows on the bed. "be warned."

Stiles looked at the bed and shrugged. He wasn't going to be able to make it any better than that. If it wasn't good enough for Derek, he could get Jackson or Isaac to do it next time. He would have paid good money to see Jackson being made to clean up after Laura – although he wasn't sure what they actually did all day. He hoped it was something equally as crappy as picking up after Derek.

He turned to take a look at the werewolf, sitting with his back to him, browsing through some pages on the computer. His breakfast was half eaten beside him, and just looking at it made Stiles stomach growl loudly. Derek turned and pointed to the tray. "Take it and go."

* * *

Everyone was already out of their rooms, so Stiles grabbed the plates and prayed he'd get to the kitchen in enough time to get something to eat. He really should have known what his luck was like.

"You are required in the greenhouse." Gibson said. "You are already late."

"I had to clean Der-"

"Just go." Gibson snapped. "Your excuses are wearing thin."

* * *

The greenhouse was nothing like the one his mom had once had, with its little plastic sheeting that was supposed to look like glass. This thing was a giant – probably bigger than the house he shared with his dad. There were trees inside it.

"Hey, kid, over here." A man in green overalls said, handing him a black set of overalls and black Wellington boots. "You're late." He said, watching as Stiles kicked off his trainers. "Place needs, cleaning and feeding every month." He was saying, as Stiles pulled on the jump suit. "Gotta make sure the flowers look their best."

"Yeah, okay." Stiles managed, stepping into the waterproof boots. "What do I need to do?"

"You see this straw? You need to lift it, then put it in the composter. After that we need to put new stuff down. Then we'll start the feeding." He pointed to a shovel and wheelbarrow. "You start with this side, kid, and I'll start mixing the plant food."

* * *

Turned out that 'Billy' had once been chosen when he was 16 too – and had been offered to stay. "O'course, that was a while ago now, when Lady Abigail was a younger lass." He sighed, leaning on the pitch fork he was using to spread the clean straw on the floor. "Afore them idiots attacked and started killin' folk." He lifted up his trouser leg to show a high tech prosthetic. "Lost mah leg in that. Thought I coulda died."

"No one really talks about it." Stiles said, looking around.

"Oh, course." He said, watching as Stiles worked. "You would only'a been a baby." He sighed. "Half the staff were killed – although ya never hear em mentioned. That family, buncha crazies – comin' in here, shootin' and killin'. Makes me sick."

"How'd they get past all the security?"

"Had a pass key, the blond lass. Walked right in." He shook his head. "Some folks said it was an inside job – she was pretty… but the folk that worked here, they loved them Hales. They wouldna done that."

"What do you think happened?"

"I think she charmed her way in here like a snake." He said, spitting on the fresh straw. "Makin' eyes at the young lads, makin' em think twice. The young lads, the Family, they aint like you an me – they aint got no control over their urges." He lowered his voice. "They go half mad wi' it, like a dog in heat." He shook his head. "When Peter was a lad they needed t'chain him up, folk said – though he aint much better now."

"But you stayed?"

"I stayed." He nodded, eyes distant. "You get attached to the place. An' I couldn't leave mah plants."

* * *

Stiles was stinking of sweat and plant food – which was the most disgusting stuff he'd ever smelt in his life – made from seaweed and (he was pretty sure) death. He could see the colour drain from Gibson's face when he walked through the kitchen doors.

"You will require a shower before taking Derek's food to him." He said, wrinkling his nose. "Take two. At least." He added, "And change your clothes."

"Can I please get something to eat?" Stiles asked, hunger making him feel physically sick. "I've not eaten in nearly two days."

"You can eat once you have done as you are told." Gibson snapped. "Now go."

* * *

Stiles knocked wearily on Derek's door, half way to putting the food on the table when he heard Derek's frustrated "Bring it in."

He didn't know why Gibson was so insistent that Derek would want his food left on the table – so far he'd only done it once. He pushed the door open and carried the tray over to the computer, not even thinking about what he was doing. He was so tired, and so hungry that his mind was starting to slow down.

"Put it here." Derek said, snapping Stiles out of his dream-like daze. He saw that the werewolf was sitting on one of the two large winged chairs that pointed to the fireplace, a table between them. Numbly, Stiles did as he was told. "Sit." Derek snapped, head nodding to the chair, "Before you fall over."

"Sorry, got to go – might get food." He mumbled, annoyed that he wasn't able to clear his head.

"Sit." The werewolf growled, and Stiles legs almost buckled as he sat heavily down in the chair. He could have sworn he only blinked – was so sure that he'd just closed his eyes for a second – but when he opened them, Derek was reading a book – his meal half eaten between them. The clock on the mantle over the fireplace clearly said 7.30pm – Stiles nearly leapt out of the chair in shock. "What the hell!" He half yelled. "Dude! Gibson is going to kill me!" he clutched at his stomach that made a terrifyingly un-human sound and groaned. "I've missed dinner." He half sobbed, sinking back into the chair. "I've missed it."

Derek was watching him with a curious expression, before he nodded to the plate between them and shrugged. "You can eat that if you want."

Stiles didn't need to be told twice, hunger overtaking his brain. Derek had left half his steak and most of his veg, although the potatoes were gone. Every bite was heaven, Stiles couldn't help the noises that escaped him as he chewed on the tender beef. "Oh, dear god." He groaned. "This is the greatest thing I have ever eaten in my life. My whole life."

Derek watched him for a few seconds before going back to his book, turning the page after a few moments. It didn't take long for Stiles to finish what was left on the plate, and it was only through massive amounts of self-control he managed not to lick the plate.

"Take it down stairs." Derek said, turning the page. "I think Sarah wanted to see you."

"Yeah, we're gonna kick some jedi ass." Stiles grinned, picking up the plate and putting it back on the tray. He felt miles better, a million times better, just for the small amount of food he'd eaten. "See ya in the morning."

"Tell Gibson I want to see him." Derek said darkly, as Stiles walked out, holding the tray.

"Shall do."

* * *

**_A lot of comments to get through! _**

**_Puckurt – I've never written a story from prompts before, so I don't know if I'd be any good at it!_**

**_I know these are shorter chapters, but it does mean I can get one out every single day!_**

**_For those that asked how I got my idea I just brainstormed the following and picked the one I liked best:_**

_AU No Wolves Ideas:_

_Stiles is working as an errand boy for a local building site over the summer to earn some Jeep money and they are fixing the Hales house._

_Derek is the new Lacrosse coach and he's slowly making Stiles life a living hell._

_Stiles is forced by his dad into working for the local landscaping company as community service and Derek finds ways to prolong his stay by complaining._

_Stiles is trying to get extra credits by tutoring Isaac in Economics, but his older brother is being distracting._

_Stiles is working in a Bar and Isaac is there with Erica, pulling guys every night – then they set their eyes on him. Group lovin!_

_AU Char Only_

_Stiles wakes up from a coma to discover that everyone he knows is gone – the only person he can find is Derek, a survivalist who thinks Stiles is infected._

_Everyone knows about the Supernatural, and those with the bite are higher class citizens. Derek Hale lives in a mansion in the woods with a staff of human servants who must bow to his every whim. _

_Demon!Stiles / Helpful Demon Takes over Stiles body to save him – doesn't want to leave. _

_TW:_

_Derek has amnesia and the only person he thinks he recognises is Stiles._

_The yearly mating cycle is underway – no one tells Stiles and he shows up in the middle of a full blown sexy time! Group lovin!_

_Baby Peter growing too fast – Derek has no idea how to deal with a baby and Stiles has no idea why this is his problem._

**_So that's kinda what I'm thinking about doing in the future – but it's a lot of things to get through and I suck at oneshots._**

**_I'm getting further with Supernatural – Season 3! Sammy isn't dead, Dean sold his soul to save him, but he's still uber hot, and can Bobby please adopt me as I love him so much!_**


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles was kind of used to Gibson shaking him awake now – even though it had only been a couple of days. He woke up and nodded groggily. "Yeah, 15 minutes, I get it." Before he padded barefoot to the showers.

He'd spent another couple of hours playing computer games with Sarah, found he really liked her – something he wasn't expecting from an Other. They just always seemed so distant, like Derek, and his grumpy frowny face. Sarah wasn't like that, she was more... human than the others. Nicer. As he stood under the cool water – anything to wake him up faster – he wondered what the rest of them were doing. Was Isaac okay? What did they do all day when Stiles was busy?

He was in the kitchen with a few minutes to spare, but Gibson wasn't even looking at him, just waved in the direction of the trolley and carried on making notes on his little clipboard.

He pushed the trolley, laden with trays, to the wide hallway – mind never settling on one thing, but jumping brokenly between thoughts like a bird jumping from branch to branch. He knocked at Laura's door, waited the 5 seconds, and walked in, expecting her to be in bed as she had been previously. She wasn't.

Laura Hale was a very famous Alpha. Famous for a few reasons – she hadn't fought her way to the top like the others, she inherited her status when her father (Peters brother) was killed in the terrorist attack. Stiles didn't remember a lot about that time, but he did remember the news – how they had talked about the fact that it was Laura and not Peter. They had polls, experts, photos and interviews with other Alphas who declared she would be weak. If Stiles remembered correctly, she'd defended her status fiercely – no one even mentioned it now. She was the Alpha, and that was that.

The other reason was that she was still single. Most Alphas wanted to increase their packs, and the best way to do that was to have kids, but Laura wasn't interested in mating – even though every year at the big councils, televised and broadcast all over the world, you could tell that there were plenty of male Werewolves who seemed more than willing to try.

She was standing at the window, in a pair of tight jeans and an over large bottle green jumper that hung off her shoulder, facing out on to the gardens. Her black hair was tied back in a simple elastic. She looked amazing – dangerous, but still amazing.

"Just put it over there like normal, Stiles." She said – and for a moment he wondered how she knew his name, before he remembered that she would have been the one to pick him. The Alpha always picked the chosen from the thousands of applications that were sent in. He wondered, not for the first time, why she had picked him.

Silently, he put the tray down in its usual spot and pulled the cover off. "You are spending more time with Sarah." She said, turning, and for some reason, Stiles was surprised to see her eyes were a normal green-blue. He'd expected her to have the red Alpha eyes that terrified most normal people.

"Should I not?" He said, unsure what to do. Talking back to Derek was stupid; talking back to Laura was **_suicide_**.

"She is very lonely." Lara said, before turning back to the window. "Spends all her time alone or on those games." Her voice was distant. "It wasn't why you were chosen, but I am glad you spend time with her." She paused. "You may go now."

It wasn't until Stiles was out of the room and knocking politely on Abigail's door that he wondered at her words. 'Wasn't why he was chosen'? Was he chosen for a reason? Was there something he needed to do here?

* * *

Abigail was sitting up in bed, like normal, and both Sarah and Peter were still asleep, which left only Derek. He didn't even bother putting the tray on the table outside the room, just waited until he heard the gruff, "Bring it in."

This time, he was **_expecting_** a mess, which was exactly what he got. Derek was sitting in his jeans – just his jeans, in the seat opposite the fireplace – book in his hand. In fact, if it wasn't for the utterly destroyed bed (the mattress was half off the base, for crying out loud!) he wouldn't have thought the wolf had moved all night. He put the tray down and pulled off the cover – trying not to notice how he'd been given almost twice the amount of food as normal – and nodding his head towards the bed.

"That doesn't count as my fault."

"Just fix it." Derek snapped, stabbing at the bacon with his fork, and going back to his book. He figured he was safe if he scowled at the back on the wolf's head, rather than the retort that was on his lips.

The mattress was heavy, and he needed all his strength to push it back into place, before he even started to get the sheets back on the bed, he was sweating. "You want new bedding or what?" Stiles asked, leaning his head on the hard mattress, trying to get his breath back.

"No."

"Good." He said, hauling the pile off the floor and shaking it with weak arms. He was getting better, at least, when it came to making the stupid wolf's bed. He still needed to crawl over the monster king size to get all the corners neat, but it took him much less time. Once he'd fluffed the pillows (with a little more violence than was really required) he started picking up the scattered books. Stiles was starting to think that Derek didn't actually sleep, just spent the night walking about his room thinking of all the ways he could fuck it up – to punish Stiles for talking back, or falling asleep in his chair or... whatever Stiles did to make the world hate him so much.

It actually took him less time that he expected to get all the books put back up, it looked like the wolf had actually tried to put some of them back into place when he'd been... doing whatever it was he did at night. He glanced at the clock and felt the smile slip off his face, he'd missed breakfast.

"Sit." Derek said, not lifting his eyes from the book at using his fork to gesture to the chair where Stiles had fallen asleep the night before.

"I've missed breakfast." Stiles said, sitting heavily down. "Again. I think you take a great delight in watching me suffer for no reason other than-"

"Eat." Derek cut him off, pointing to the plate. Half of it was gone, but... Derek had twice as much as normal. There was a whole breakfast there – if you didn't count the half eaten toast. The second set of cutlery tipped him off. He stared at Derek for a full 60 seconds before the wolf finally looked at him.

"You miss breakfast." He shrugged. "So now you don't."

* * *

Stiles walked into the kitchen to find that Gibson, bless his creepy heart, wasn't there. In his place, was a woman Stiles had never seen before.

"You are Stilinski?" She said, as he pushed the trolley into the room.

"Yeah."

"You will come with me." She commanded. "The Family have requested that the staff have full medicals every quarter."

* * *

Stiles had thought that they would have gone to a hospital, but the Hale Pack had their own private medical suit in the basement. The others were already there – standing in a row. Stiles shuffled into place beside Isaac and glanced up at the taller boy. He had a small purple bruise on his neck that Stiles would have sworn was a hickie.

Maybe he was getting it on with Erica?

"Jackson is pissed." Isaac hissed from one side of his mouth, so low that Stiles could hardly hear it.

"Why?" He whispered back, glancing down the line at Jackson, who didn't look any different than normal. That was his normal face – constantly pissed.

"I asked why you weren't at breakfast, and Gibson said you ate with Derek." The taller boy whispered. "Jackson asked why you were getting all this special treatment, and Gibson tore him a new one." He glanced at Stiles. "I mean – threatened to send him home and everything."

Stiles was going to argue – 'special treatment' his ass – but the woman was back, standing in front of them with a serious expression.

"Your medical histories have arrived, but the Family require their own doctors give a full work over to ensure that you are not... sick."

Stiles really didn't like the way she said 'sick' – it made his skin crawl. "You'll have a full medical exam, as well as a full metal health evaluation." She paused. "If you fail – you will be sent home."

Stiles couldn't help but sigh – he was lousy at stuff like this – but the sudden and obvious slump to Isaac's shoulders made him stop.

"You okay, dude?" He whispered.

"I'm not going to pass the physical." He mumbled. "I've got Haemophilia, my blood doesn't clot properly – they're going to send me home."

"Are you sick?" Stiles asked, trying not to look at the really sharp needles that the woman was suddenly pointing to.

"No – its... I just thought that if I got the bite... you know? I'd be cured." Isaac looked at him with eyes of dusky blue, overly bright with unshed tears. "I thought I'd get better."

"Look, you put it on your application, right? They'll already know."

"Didn't though." Isaac groaned. "I lied."

It was only then that Stiles thought about the lies his dad might have put on his application. What exactly did his dad say to get them to pick him over everyone else?

* * *

**_Had a really bad couple of days (bad news about my puppy) so this is a pretty short chapter. Should be back to normal soon, fingers crossed!_**

**_I've just watched another two episodes of SPN, one where Dean thinks he might have a kid (And I still think that kid is his, no matter what that woman said) and other where Sammy got bad luck and lost his shoe._**

**_Still haven't met Cas, yet - soooo looking forward to that!_**

**_Hope you like this chapter, and like I say, sorry its not up to my usual stuff. _**

**_Gonna go and hug my puppy!_**


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles sat in his little hospital gown beside Isaac and the others, holding a small cotton ball to the crook of his arm. His had stopped bleeding a while ago, but he kept it in place because he could see that Isaac was still oozing red and he didn't want the others to think something was wrong.

"So, what have you been doing?" Stiles asked the boy, pale under the harsh lighting.

"Peter likes us to talk to him." Isaac shrugged. "We don't do much."

"I thought he would be a bit… **_creepy_**." Erica said, and Stiles noticed that she was leaning into Isaac, her arm pressed against his, even though there was enough room on the bed that they didn't need to touch. "But he's actually pretty okay. He's got no idea about personal space though."

"Yeah, he pretty much always has to be touching someone." Isaac agreed, then caught the smirk on Jacksons face. "It's not like, sexual, or whatever – you **_perv_**." He shot at him. "He's actually just really nice."

"I just help Abigail around." Boyd said, "She had trouble walking, so like… I just help her." He shrugged. "It's actually pretty cool, to see what she does." He looked at his bare feet and shrugged again. "She spends a lot of time in the gardens, painting. She's really good."

Danny looked at them and shrugged. "Laura spends all her time working. We mostly just sit and play cards while she conference calls people." Danny looked at Jackson, who looked away. "She doesn't really talk to us," He said. "It wasn't what I was expecting."

"What about you?" Isaac said. "You're never at breakfast, or lunch or dinner – and you don't get back till after we've all gone to bed. We see loads of each other, and it's like you're not even here."

"Gibson gets me up at 7am, I've got to take breakfast up to the rooms, then wait till after everyone leaves to take the plates down. Then clean up after Derek – I swear to God he messes that place up to punish me – then Gibson… wait – you guys get lunch?" He whined. "Like, a real lunch?"

"Well, yeah, dude." Jackson laughed, "They do feed us."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Stiles yelled. "I get leftovers and table scraps and you get three meals a day?"

"You don't get fed?"

"I get whatever Derek doesn't eat." Stiles snapped. "They didn't feed me for 3 fucking days!"

"You eat…" Isaac stopped, then blinked. "You eat Derek Hales leftovers?" he finished, Jackson crowing with laughter suddenly, something about Stiles being nothing more than a servant.

"Shut up!" Isaac snapped at the blond boy – who glared back. He turned to face Stiles and gripped his arm. "You don't eat their food, you idiot!" He hissed. "They are Other! Wolves! They don't share **_food_**."

"Look, they didn't feed me for days." Stiles hissed back. "And Derek told me to eat, so I'm not going to say no, am I?"

"He told you?" Isaac said, staring at Stiles as though he'd grown a new head that was talking in perfect French or something. "He actually told you?"

"Yeah." Stiles said. "Probably on account of my starving to death on his rug or something." He sagged his shoulders. "I spend all morning cleaning up after Derek, I get chores in the afternoon, I have to take Derek his food at dinner, then get to hang out with Sarah at-"

"You hang out with Sarah?" Jackson cut over him. "Sarah Hale?"

"How many other Sarah's live here, dude?" Stiles shot at him.

"What do you **_do_**?" Danny asked. "Laura said we're not even to **_look_** at her."

"Um, we play computer games and stuff." Stiles said, utterly confused. "Just hang out and play MMO's." He paused. "Laura said it was okay for me to hang out with her."

"What the actual hell, dude?" Jackson said, looking at him. "What the hell makes **_you_** so fucking special? What did you put on your application?"

"I didn't apply!" Stiles said panic in his voice. "I think my dad sent it in."

"He can't do that." Erica said, looking at him oddly. "They require loads of personal stuff."

"Why do you think I'm freaking out?" He hissed at her. "I don't know what he put down and if they find out it wasn't me that sent it in, they'll send me home."

"Or kill you." Boyd said, quietly. "No one would know. They could just say the bite went wrong."

* * *

Stiles really didn't want to think about what Boyd had said. Like – he **_really_** didn't want to think about it. Unfortunately, it was now **_all_** he could think about. He was officially freaking out. The fact that he was about to be picked apart by a shrink didn't help either. Stiles had no idea what they were going to ask him, if they wanted to know about his application answers, he'd be so fucked. The shrink was an older guy, older than Gibson, but younger than Billy the gardener. Maybe in his 50's.

"So, Stiles, how are you?"

"Good. Great. Fine." He replied. "Yeah, peachy."

"Your file suggests you have ADHD?" He said, looking at the paper in front of him. "And you medicate with Adderall?"

"Uh, yeah." He said. "Yeah – I do. But you know that, cause it's in my file."

"Yes. I'm just asking." The man said. Stiles didn't know his name. He hadn't given it, and he wasn't wearing a badge. "Good grades at school," He said, glancing over the paper. "That must be a struggle, children with ADHD often find concentrating on one thing difficult."

"Well, I do okay, you know. I try, I mean. I do my best."

"Of course." He said, not making eye contact. Stiles felt severally uncomfortable, sitting in a white hospital gown on a hard plastic chair. He felt utterly exposed. "Your father was picked, I remember him."

"You do?" Stiles asked. "Really?"

"Yes." The man nodded. "We don't normally get a second generation chosen, not with your file."

"My file?" Stiles choked, not really wanting to think about all the terrible and violent ways he could die.

"Yes. For the son of a sheriff you do get into a lot of trouble." He said, looking through the papers. "Breaking and entering, trespassing, under-age drinking…"

"Um, there were reasons for that!" Stiles quickly said. "Even the drinking! I was comforting a friend going through a bad break up!"

"That would be…Scott?"

"You have a file on Scott?"

"We have files on all applicants." The man said. "He made the short list of chosen."

"Why isn't he here?" Stiles asked, curious.

"It was considered too… volatile to have you both in the same house." The man said, looking over the paper. "You were chosen, and therefore Scott could not be."

"Why didn't they just pick him?"

"You were…" He man stopped, look at the notes and gave him a polite smile. "That is not a question I can answer. Tell me about your father." He said, voice calm and polite. "How is he doing?"

* * *

"What did he ask you?" Isaac said, as Stiles made his way back to the hospital bed where they were still sitting.

"He just asked about my dad, and school and stuff." Stiles said. "Nothing… I dunno, nothing like I was expecting. I didn't have to look at inkblots and see butterflies or whatever."

"Have you been in?"

"I went in just after you. I got an older woman. She gave me quiz and asked questions about my hobbies. I don't get it." He said. "It just seemed a bit… pointless."

"How's your arm?"

"Okay, it's stopped bleeding at least." He looked about. "I really don't want to get sent home. I like it here, I like Peter, and Erica." He sighed, leaning a little into Stiles, who wasn't really used to people who weren't Scott invading his personal space. It was nice though, comforting.

"Mr Lahay, Mt Stilinski," The woman who took their blood walked through – scowling at them both. "You are both cleared to go. Please dress and return to your room where you will await your results."

* * *

They had been sitting in their room, leaning against the lockers at the foot of their beds, for about an hour before Erica joined them. She looked strained, and a little confused – but okay. Isaac was on his feet right away, and Stiles got the feeling he really just wanted to hug her.

"You alright?" the taller boy asked, hovering between sitting and standing. Erica flopped down on his bed and groaned.

"That was hell. They gave me a test, then I had to answer all these questions, and look at stupid shapes on a card. Then they asked me about my sex life…" He voice trailed off as she buried her face in the pillow. "It was hell."

"They didn't ask us that." Isaac said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He patted her leg awkwardly.

"Yeah, well, Danny and Jackson were still in there when I left – and Boyd is still waiting to be seen." She paused, lifting her head up and glanced at the two of them. "Don't you think it's strange that they gave us these tests?"

"Well, no one really knows what goes on here." Stiles said. "My dad got picked too, and he never talks about it, didn't even give me a clue what to expect. It might be normal."

"I don't think it was." Erica said, dropping the tone of her voice. "I think they are checking us for something."

"Like what?"

"Just… I heard Jackson say something… and I think **_they_** heard him."

"What?" Isaac whispered.

"Do you know Lydia Martin?"

"Yes." Both boys said at the same time. Stiles shrugged – she was the hottest girl in school – everyone knew who she was. Stiles actually prided himself on having spoken to her on three separate occasions.

"Well, Jackson said that she didn't apply because she didn't see the point – she's got a blood **_immunity_** to the bite."

Blood immunity was rare, and not a lot was known about it. All Stiles knew was that if you had an immunity, you were never, ever chosen – the result was that very few people even asked for the tests.

"They're checking to see if we're immune." Isaac said. "Do you think they-"

"I think they're just checking." Stile said, cutting over Isaac's hopeful tone. "To make sure. Just in case. I don't think they plan to turn anyone."

"But they **_might_**."

"I think we need to wait until we get our results back and then we ca-"

Three short beeps cut him off, and all three turned to face the door. Gibson walked through, looking like his normal buttoned up self.

"Mr Peter is asking for his companions." He looked them over critically. "He is in the music room."

"What about our results?" Isaac asked, voice polite and submissive.

"You are all in perfect health." Gibson said, frowning slightly. "Now, go."

"Stilinski, you will go to Housekeeper and complete any tasks she requires before returning to the kitchens in good time for Mr Derek's evening meal." When none of them made a move, he snapped his fingers. "Go! Now!"

* * *

Housekeeper, who introduced herself as 'Housekeeper' was a scrawny woman of about a million and 5 years old, who had a voice like nails over glass. He hated her within the first 15 seconds of knowing her. It didn't help though, that she was giving him all the worst jobs – the ones that involved running back and forward for items she changed her mind about needing, or scrubbing invisible stains from the carpets. His hands were bright red and overly sensitive when he finally got to the kitchen for Derek's meal. Jackson was there too – which he wasn't expecting.

"You okay?" He asked, grabbing the heavy tray – heavier than normal.

"Yes." The larger boy said, turning away to look at cook. "Laura asked for her steak to be blue." Stiles heard him say, as he walked out of the hot kitchen. His hands were too sore to knock on the door, so he gave it a couple of very gentle kicks, praying to God that the soft soled training shoes didn't leave scuffs.

"Bring it in."

Using his elbow to open the door, Stiles stepped inside. Derek wasn't in the chair facing the fireplace – in fact, Stiles couldn't see Derek anywhere – so he put the tray down and started to back out of the room. Gibson has told him **_never_** to turn his back on a member of the Family. It was disrespectful. So Stiles had developed a habit of backing out of rooms. So it wasn't really his fault. Not really – not when Derek could obviously see him walking backwards and didn't move out of his way.

So when Stiles collided with Derek, he wasn't expecting it, and it **_really_** wasn't his fault that he lost his balance. Or that he ended up knocking the Other over. It **_really_** wasn't his fault that he spun around as he fell, trying to keep a hold of his balance – or that he grabbed the wolf as he went down – because he was panicking and assumed that Derek would be able to keep him upright.

So when Derek crashed on top of him, knocking heads together so hard that Stiles actually felt the skin on his forehead split, he didn't utter a single sound – and then the world went black.

* * *

"You broke him already." A faintly amused voice was saying on the edge of Stiles consciousness.

"Shut up, Peter, I didn't break him."

"Did you just throw yourself at him and he collapsed?"

Stiles tried to open his eyes, but everything hurt him, his head was killing him – throbbing and pounding in a way he hadn't felt since Jackson threw him half way down the Lacrosse pitch just to prove he could.

"He's waking up."

"Perhaps he has brain damage."

"Shut up, Peter!" Derek snapped, as Stiles managed to open his eyes. The brightness of the room made him groan and try to cover his eyes. "I think it's too bright." Derek was saying, but the ringing in Stiles ears was starting to get really loud, and he was finding it difficult to concentrate.

"Gonna puke." He managed to get out, before he was lifted easily off whatever he was laying on, and held over a bucket. As he emptied the contents of his stomach he managed to crack an eye open. Not a bucket, the toilet. Slightly better.

"I'm not standing here watch him throw up his vitals." Peter was saying. "My twins are waiting for me."

"You are the creepiest guy I know." Derek was saying. "They aren't even related."

"Oh, but I like to **_think_** they are." The older man said. "Makes it so much more… **_exciting_**."

**_Pervert_**.

The burst of laughter that erupted from Peter Hale was enough to make Stiles wince. "Oh, I like him!" He chortled, and Stiles snapped his eyes open in panic. "Yes, my boy, you **_did_** say that aloud."

"Leave him alone, Peter. Go play with your twins." Derek muttered, still holding Stiles over the bowl of the toilet.

"You're the one who panicked, thinking your broken you're little ob-"

"Get out!" Derek snapped, as Stiles tried to throw up his large intestine.

Peters laugh trailed out of the room, but it echoed in Stiles head for much, much longer.

* * *

**_A longer chapter for you! Poor Stiles, knocked out and puking his guts up..._**

**_So many comments! Some of you have the right idea, some of you are waaaaaay off ;) Only time will tell who is right, I guess. _**

**_This was a real struggle for me today, but I'm pretty pleased with how it came out in the end !_**

**_Always keep writing - eventually you'll work your way out of a funk!_**

**_Currently nom-ing my way through some cheese and crackers as a treat for writing, lol._**

**_I hope you like this chapter - and thanks for all the PM's and tweets and Tumblr messages - I hope I replied to everyone but if I missed you it wasn't intentional! PROMISE!_**

**_Love you like... diet coke. (Which I love a LOT)_**


	7. Chapter 7

The first thing Stiles remembered clearly was that Derek was still holding him over the bowl of the toilet and all he could smell was vomit.

"Oh, gross." He moaned, trying to pull away. When Derek didn't let him move, he mumbled "I'm okay, done throwing up." And the pressure on the back of his neck to keep him in place let up. "Need to brush my teeth."

"And shower."

"That too." He said, sitting on his backside. Sticky warmth on his face made him panic that he'd actually got puke over himself, until he touched it and saw the blood on his fingers. "What the hell?"

"You fell."

"I remember. You were being a creeper and you smashed my face in with your head."

Something was pressed into his hand, the paper and plastic of an unopened toothbrush. "You need to shower."

"I can go do that in my room."

"You'll do what you are **_told_**."

"Fine!" Stiles hissed, head starting to throb again.

"Fine!" Derek snapped, walking out of the room and leaving Stiles sitting on the marbled floor.

* * *

Derek's shower was massive – white marble with grey flecks, it was cool on his skin even though he had the water a touch short of scalding. It had about a million different settings, from a mist that felt like gentle raindrops, to full on 'Niagara on Viagra' that left him gasping for air as his skin was pummelled raw by the force of the water. Derek didn't have any kind of shampoo for him to use, so he stuck with the bar of soap and scrubbed every part of his skin until he was pink and raw. He doubted he'd ever been so clean.

Derek's towels were nothing like the crappy grey ones they had to use down in their own rooms either – these were massive, fluffy giant towels that felt about 4 inches thick and soaked up water like a sponge. He was midway through brushing his teeth when he noticed that his clothes were gone.

He'd left them in a pile on the floor, along with his training shoes, but everything was gone. Had Derek removed them while he was in the shower? Had Derek been in the bathroom while Stiles was showering? When Stiles was naked? **_Oh God_**, he thought franticly. Had Derek Hale seen him **_naked_**?

Wrapping the towel tightly around his waist – toothbrush hanging from his mouth, he gingerly opened the door to the bedroom and peeked out. Was he going to have to walk, naked (the towel didn't count) all the way back to his room?

"Are you done?" Derek's voice cut over Stiles panicking thoughts like a hot knife through butter.

"Where are my clothes?" Stiles managed to say around the toothbrush, both hands still holding tightly to the towel at his waist. He knew what he looked like naked – pale skin, moles and just a touch too skinny to be anything but scrawny – he didn't like to think how great Derek had looked shirtless, or Danny, or Jackson – or anyone really. He was like the runt of the litter.

"They were stinking the room out." Derek said, screwing up his face – one of the first expressions other than grump or pissed that Stiles had seen. "Put those on." He pointed to the small pile of clothes that were just outside the door. They weren't the 'uniform' that he'd been given by Gibson, but it was mostly black, so he guessed it would be okay. He nodded, grabbed the clothes and slammed the door shut behind him.

No lock on the door. He should have noticed that before. There were no locks on **_any_** of the doors.

The clothes were Derek's. Stiles knew right away that they weren't cast offs from some previous staff member. The fact that the black jeans were too big in the waist and just a touch too long in the leg – or that the long sleeve t-shirt was a brand that cost more than Stiles entire wardrobe back home – just made in obvious. He didn't even want to think about the designer underwear that fit him surprisingly well – he was never going to be David Beckham, but he did think maybe he needed to change from his boxers to this style…

The jeans hung too low on his hips, showing the wide band of elastic with the designer brand woven in, but luckily the t-shirt covered that. Pushing the sleeves of the tee up, he glanced in the mirror. Gibson was going to kill him if he caught him in these clothes. Like, **_actually_** rip him a new one.

Sighing, he pushed the bathroom door open and padded barefoot into the bedroom. Derek was sitting on the chair facing the fireplace – he turned and gave Stiles a strange look before pointing to the other chair. "Sit."

Not even bothering to argue, and too tired to care, Stiles did what he was told, flopping down onto the overstuffed chair with a sigh. Derek pulled the cover off the tray of food and Stiles wrinkled his nose. "That'll be stone cold by now." He said, before his brain registered the steam coming off the food.

"I had new food brought up." Derek said, looking at him like perhaps he needed a brain scan. There was steak, and some kind of savoury pie with a pastry crust, gravy seeping out the small hole in the top. "That's yours." Derek said, pointing at it with a sharp, serrated knife. "Don't touch my steak."

Stiles watched Derek cut into the meat that was still too pink in the middle for a few seconds before the wolf looked at him, frown firmly in place. "Eat." He snapped when Stiles looked at him, unmoving. Nodding, he picked up the cutlery and started cutting into the crust. Gravy and chicken poured out, the smell making his stomach growl hungrily. He stabbed the nearest bit of chicken with his fork and put it in his mouth. "Jesus." He groaned. "Do they put crack in this stuff to make it so good?" When Derek didn't reply, Stiles shrugged and carried on eating.

About half way through his meal, Derek started using his steak to mop up the gravy from Stiles side of the plate. "Dude!" Stiles whined. "I was leaving that for my potatoes."

"You need to eat faster, then." Derek said, using his fork to push Stiles' knife out of the way. He didn't do it again though.

* * *

Stiles knew something was wrong when he fell asleep mid-mouthful and nearly choked to death on a bit of broccoli. Derek leaned over and smacked him on the back before returning to his meal, as Stiles gasped for air.

"I think you enjoy hitting me." He grumbled, once he'd got his breath back. His words were a little slurred.

"I think you have a concussion." Derek said, still eating. "Go lie down or something." He pointed to the bed with his fork before going back to his meal.

"Can't sleep in your bed." Stiles mumbled.

"You've already crawled all over it." Derek said, mouth full. "Doesn't make a difference to the smell."

"Gibson'll kill me."

"Shut up, Stiles, and do what you're told."

"Do this, Stiles, do that, Stiles, Do what you're told, Stiles." He muttered, standing up on shaky legs. "All people ever do is boss me about."

"You ever wonder why?" Derek said, as Stiles padded across the floor.

"Cause I'm so shy and submissive?" He said, clambering up onto the massive mattress.

Derek actually laughed, which made Stiles smile drunkenly. He'd never heard the wolf laugh – he didn't look like he had the type of face for smiling – but when he did, **_damn_**. He was all white teeth and… was that a dimple? Derek Hale had dimples! It was a nice sound, warm and open, and it was the last thing he heard before his head hit the pillow and sleep claimed him.

* * *

"Wake up." A rough hand grabbed his shoulder, giving him a shake.

"No." He mumbled, falling instantly back to sleep.

* * *

"Wake up." A kick to the leg this time, not painful but enough to make Stiles kick back automatically. His heel hit bone.

"Leave me alone." He groaned.

* * *

"Wake up."

"Why do you keep telling me to wake up?" Stiles grumbled, blinking. It was dark and he was so **_warm_** and comfortable.

"Just checking you're not dead."

"M'not dead." He mumbled, rolling onto his side and snuggling deeper into the warmth pressed against him.

"Okay."

* * *

Stiles woke up to the sound of running water – going almost instantly from half asleep to wide awake, sitting bolt upright on the bed. He was still on top of the covers, the bed didn't even need made – it was still pretty neat.

A glance at the clock on the mantle made his stomach flip dangerously. It was almost 9am.

"Shit!" He half yelled, rolling off the edge of the bed and managing somehow to stop from faceplanting on the carpet. "Shit!"

Gibson was going to kill him. Derek was going to kill him. He was pretty sure **_everyone_** in the house was going to kill him – breakfast should have been brought to their rooms an hour ago. He was so dead.

He was still barefoot – with no idea where his shoes were – when he saw it. The tray. The breakfast tray of food, with a Stiles size portion left over. He padded over, feet making no sound on the thick carpet, and grabbed the toast. It was cold, but edible.

"Pills are on the tray." Derek's voice said from the door of the bathroom as he walked out, towel on his hips, opening the large wardrobe.

"Thanks." Stiles said, grabbing them quickly so he wouldn't get caught looking at the massive expanse of Derek's chest. Or the way the water droplets from his hair were dripping and running down the muscles on his back. "What are these?"

"Aderall and Painkillers." Derek said.

"Oh, thanks." Stiles mumbled, throwing them down his neck and taking a swig of the orange juice. "I'd better get back to Gibson." Stiles said, not looking at Derek. He didn't add the silent '_So he can kick my ass_.' But he was sure it was implied. The older man **_was_** gonna kill him.

"Sarah wants to see you." Derek said walking towards the computer and turning it on. He was dressed, the drops of water on his skin making darker spots on his grey t-shirt. "She's in the games room."

"Do I have to go see Gibson first?"

"No."

"**_Awesome_**."

* * *

"Ouch!" Was the first thing Sarah said as Stiles opened the door to the games room. She was sitting putting together a pretty complicated looking jigsaw on the felt table. "That looks like it **_hurts_**."

Stiles gingerly touched his forehead, feeling the slightly swollen bump and cut. "I actually can't feel it." He admitted with a shrug.

"That'll be becau-" She stopped, looking at her puzzle. "Still looks pretty sore. You can't heal it, huh?"

"No." Stiles shrugged. "It's one of those 'pesky normal' things."

"Sucks to be you, then – cause its purple and gross looking right now."

"You really know how to make a person feel good about themselves." Stiles grinned.

"It's one of my many talents." She snorted. "Peter said Derek knocked you out, but I thought it was just Peter being… well… Peter." She said. "He says things like that sometimes."

"Nah, I fell over." Stiles shrugged.

"You up for a game?" She said, nodding her head towards the PC's.

"I honestly thought you'd never ask." He grinned, which made her smile up at him. Damn, Stiles thought, she was like the **_perfect_** girl. So why was he comparing her smile to Derek's?

* * *

A few hours later there was a polite knock on the door, and about 5 seconds later, Isaac walked in. In his hands he was holding Stiles sneakers, and a pair of clean socks. Stiles had almost forgotten that he was still barefoot, Sarah had kicked off her shoes too – and they were sitting cross legged on their chairs, leaning over the keyboards.

"Peter sent me down to give these to you." He said, quietly.

"Awesome, dude."

"You play?" Sarah asked, pointing to the screen where they were currently dominating in Hutt Ball.

"No, sorry." The taller teen said, blushing. "I've only got an xbox at home."

"Sweet!" She paused, swearing under her breath. "I swear to God this lag is kicking my ass." She glanced back at Isaac, who was backing out of the room. "Where ya going? Peters leaving with Erica, right?" Stiles assumed Isaac nodded. "We're gonna play some co-op!"

* * *

"The language that you three are using would turn the air blue." A female voice said behind them, sitting together on the sofa, squashed up in a mess of limbs. All three heads snapped around, Stiles and Isaac freezing in place, while Sarah laughed.

"Aww, Laura, it totally doesn't count – this is **_Halo_**, this is waaaaaar."

Laura Hale was standing with her hands on her hips, in a tight pair of jeans and a warm jumper. She looked perfectly normal – if **_perfect_** was normal – but Stiles was aware of the feeling of power that came off her. Standing a few steps behind her was Danny and Jackson, the latter scowling at him.

"How's your head, Stiles?" Laura asked, leaning down and touching the bruise.

"Good, yeah. I took some painkillers." He said, trying not to move as her finger tips lightly touched his head.

"Gibson has been advised that you will not be available for duties until this has healed. You will split your time between Sarah," Who punched the air with a triumphant '**_Alright!_**' "And Derek." She paused for a moment before glancing at the three of them sitting on the couch with a sigh. "Sarah, if Peter asks for Isaac back, you will do as you are asked."

"But I get to keep Stiles though, right?"

"Until Derek asks for him." Laura said, turning and walking out. Danny closing the doors behind her.

"Don't worry, dude." She said, elbowing him in the ribs once the door was closed. "Derek won't ask for you." She smirked. "Derek never asks for **_anyone_**."

* * *

She was wrong.

"Stilinski is to take Mr Derek's dinner to him as normal." Gibson said from the door behind him. Isaac had left a few hours ago, Erica coming to collect him. Her hair looked different, Peter had gone to a fancy salon to get his hair done and had someone do Ericas hair too. It was all golden, bouncy curls – it suited her a lot. Stiles had heard Isaac's "You look really good." As the door shut behind them – and Sarah winked.

"Peter wants them to get it on." She whispered. "He's a total matchmaker."

"Really?" Stiles said, surprised. He'd gotten the feeling that Peter wanted them both to get it on with **_Peter_**.

Rather than go back onto the PC's though, Stiles watched Sarah play Dead Space and spent the next couple of hours nearly jumping out of his skin.

"Now, Stilinski." Gibson repeated from the door. "And Miss Sarah, if you please, dinner is being served in the main dining room."

"I'll be right there," She said, "As soon as I've found a save point."

"Take as long as you require." Gibson nodded, smiling for the first time in Stiles presence. "But Mr Derek expects Stilinski **_now_**."

* * *

He knocked and waited the full 5 seconds before opening the door and carrying Derek's tray through. He was sitting on the middle of the bed, which was covered in papers and books – scribbling notes. Stiles put the tray down and removed the cover – another overly large steak, and a couple of chicken breasts covered in gravy, as well as a mountain of vegetables.

"Chicken is yours." Derek said from the bed, turning over a page in his note book, but making no attempt to move.

"You're supposed to eat first." Stiles said.

"I'm busy." The wolf snapped. "No one is here, so just eat."

Stiles sat down, not liking that Derek was behind him, so he twisted the chair more to the left before he started to eat. "What are you doing?" He asked, mouth full, before he remembered that he wasn't there to talk to Derek. He wasn't Sarah, who was pretty lonely.

Derek looked up at him for a moment, then back to his notes. "Studying."

"Really?" Stiles said, surprised. Others didn't normally talk much about education, although everyone assumed they had a good one. "What are you studying for?"

"Master's degree in History."

"Sweet!" Stiles said, chewing on a carrot. "I love history. That what all these books are for?"

"Yes."

"How cool. I thought you just liked making a mess. Not that you're making a mess or anything, I just didn't think you'd be working towards something, you know? You never really hear about Others studying or graduating. Well done you." He grinned, cramming more food in his mouth.

Derek didn't say anything, just continued to write on his note pad, occasionally glancing up at Stiles, who was trying really hard not to watch Derek study. He looked... relaxed, normal, even – if normal looked like a sex god from Olympus. "Your steak is getting cold." Stile said, once he had finished his side of the plate.

Derek nodded, closing his book and using his pen as a page marker, before climbing off the bed and walking towards the chairs. Sitting down and grabbing the knife and fork, the wolf attacked the steak with gusto.

The fire was throwing off heat and he was perfectly comfortable in his over-large chair, well fed and he could almost feel the painkillers kick in – he just knew he was going to fall asleep, blinks getting longer and longer.

The only difference was that he wasn't too worried that Derek was going to murder him with his steak knife if he fell asleep this time.

* * *

**_Well, looks like everyone is enjoying this so far! I'm so glad :) I get loads of warm fuzzies every time I get a notification, and I swear to god it was the only thing keeping me going at work today, those little emails popping up on my phone (_**_That I totally do __not __keep at my desk to check for notifications__**)**_

_**For those that asked, Puppy is needing two new hips (at 8 months old, ffs) and I don't think I'll be able to get a loan to pay for it, so am currently trying to work out a way to get the many, many £££ I need. It doesn't look good, and I may end up having to put him up for adoption. So my heart is breaking. **_

_**At the moment though, I've got fingers in my ears and am going 'LA LA LA' and playing SWTOR -The Red Eclipse, for those players out there - got me a max level Jedi Shadow, Sith marauder and and working on getting my Imp agent out of the mid 30s. My smuggler isn't getting levelled till he can Romance Corso. Cause I ship that.**_

_**So, until tomorrow - love you all, and thank you so much for the lovely reviews, they do mean so much to me!**_


	8. Chapter 8

Stiles wasn't really asleep – he could hear the crackling of the fire, the scraping of Derek's knife and fork on the plate as he ate – but he was relaxed, perfectly at peace. That great moment between asleep and awake where you are aware but not really affected by the sounds around you, the moment that comes just before you fall asleep, or that few seconds before your alarm clock goes off.

He heard Derek put his cutlery down on the tray, the sound of metal on metal. He really should open his eyes, but just couldn't bring himself to do it. Derek didn't move from his chair – there was no sound other than steady breathing and crackle of the fire to disturb them.

There was a polite knock at the door, Stiles unsure how much time had passed since Derek had stopped eating, and he actually heard Derek's unhappy huff as the door opened.

"Mr Derek?" It was Gibson – his voice so very different when he was talking to the family than when he was talking to Stiles. Softer, politer.

"What?" Derek snapped, and Stiles opened his eyes at the sound of irritation. Derek was sitting in his chair, feet stretched toward the fire.

"Miss Sarah was asking if you required Stilinski this evening, as she is in the games room-"

"Tell Sarah that… Nevermind." He growled, glancing at Stiles, who was watching him owlishly. He was still unwilling to move from the warmth and comfort of the chair. "Take the tray down."

"Sure." Stiles nodded, giving a massive stretch, bones and muscle waking up. Enough movement to hide his disappointment in being told to leave.

"Gibson, get the car keys. I'm going out."

* * *

"Give me the tray. Go and see Miss Sarah." Gibson was saying. "Tomorrow morning you have an appointment with Nurse to look at your head."

"It feels fine, honestly." Stiles argued, handing over the tray.

"Miss Laura **_expressly_** requested the appointment." Gibson said, and Stiles could see something working at the corner of the older man's eye. Like a twitch. "You will do as you are told." He gave Stiles a strange look. "Games room. Go!"

* * *

"So then, Peter just looks at this Alpha – a full Alpha too – and is like… 'Child, please – in **_those_** shoes?' and I swear to God, right – _Holy crap this dude hits like a truck! Stun him! _– his pack just dies of laughter. First time I ever saw an Alpha lose a fight without a single punch thrown." Sarah giggled. "He was challenged by Kevin a week later. Kevin is awesome." She sighed. "He's all Alpha and smells like – _is that a datacron over there_ – like coffee and **_power_**." She paused for a few seconds, spinning her character around the screen. "If we climb up there we might be able to walk along that pipe and over the top of that ship then jump down."

"Nah, I've done this, you need to get out of here, them find a hole in the wall, walk around the edge **_then_** get on the pipe."

"Sweet." She grinned. "Might as well while we wait for this boss to spawn."

"So what about this Kevin guy then?" Stiles asked, interested. He wasn't sure what relationships were like between Other. Packs were often quite hostile to each other.

"He's just nice." She blushed. "He's about the same age as Derek. But he's got these lovely brown eyes and he's taller and broader and he told me once he thought I was cute."

"You've got a crush on this guy?" Stiles asked.

"No!" She snapped, and for the first time, her eyes flashed blue and her teeth lengthened below her lips. Stiles actually felt his heart jump dangerously. He'd forgotten that Sarah was Other. How could he have forgotten? "No, don't be scared!" She whined, touching his arm. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Yeah." Stiles nodded quickly, "Yeah I know."

"No please, just relax. I promise I won't do it again." She urged. "I just forgot you weren't… I keep forgetting…" She put her head in her hands and sighed. "It's just you smell like Derek and it's difficult to remember that you aren't pack."

"I don't smell like Derek!" Stiles squeaked out, leaning back and sniffing his… **_Derek's_** shirt. Damn.

"Well, you smell like his soap and his clothes and…" She sighed. "I just wish you were pack, then we could fight and play and it would be okay." She said. "No one plays."

"I'm playing now." Stiles said, waving his mouse in the air, desperately trying to get his heart rate under control. He wasn't really scared of Sarah, he just was worried about how he totally forgot she was a **_Werewolf_**.

"No, I mean like.. playing. Running, chasing, **_fighting_**." She sighed. "Peter thinks it's childish, Granny can't because of her leg, Laura doesn't because she's the Alpha and Uncle Derek is always too busy." Sarah looked at him with sad eyes. "I just wish we had a real pack and then I wouldn't be always alone."

* * *

"You've been yawning for the past hour." Sarah said, fingers dancing over the keys as her character fought. "We could just log out in a cantina for rested xp, if you want to go to bed."

"No, I'm good." Stiles said, through a yawn, before laughing at her expression. "Yeah, maybe bed would be a good idea."

Sarah grinned and shrugged. "Maybe if you like, tomorrow, we can do something different. Like go to the mall or something."

"That would be pretty cool, actually." Stiles grinned back. "If I'm allowed."

"Don't see why not."

* * *

Stiles opened the door to the room he shared with the other 'Chosen' and was surprised to see the lights on. It obviously wasn't as late as he thought it was. Isaac and Erica were sitting on Isaac's bed, playing cards with Danny and Boyd while Jackson did push ups on the floor.

"Hey!" Isaac grinned as they all turned to face him. "Your bruise is purple and blue now."

"What the hell happened to you?" Boyd said, staring. "Did you get beat up?"

"No, I fell." He shrugged.

"Where'd you get the clothes?" Danny said, giving him an odd look. "They aren't the stuff Gibson gave us. Those are Armani jeans."

"I puked on my stuff." Stiles said, blushing furiously. "I had a concussion."

"Did you spend the night in the ward then?" Erica said, frowning. "Cause you can't sleep with a concussion, it's dangerous."

"I was woken up." He said, opening the locker at the foot of his bed and pulling out his sleepwear. "I'm going to see nurse in the morning."

"Trust you, Stilinski, to fall flat on your face the first week here." Jackson laughed, flexing his muscles, which Stiles assumed for Erica's benefit, but she was running her hand over Isaac's leg and wasn't paying the jerk any notice.

"Shut up, Jackson." Isaac said, "You're acting like an idiot. He's standing there in Derek Hales clothes after spending the **_whole_** day with Sarah – and you think you're somehow better than he is because you've watched Laura on the phone?"

"Shut your face, Lahay – you don't get to talk to me like that."

"I get to talk to you however I like." The tall boy snapped back, "You're not the captain of the Lacrosse team here."

"I'm going to beat you to death, you little shit." Jackson roared, lunging over Danny and grabbing Isaac by the shirt. Cards went flying in all directions, Erica was screaming at Jackson to stop, and Boyd was hauling at them both.

Stiles was still standing by his own bed, frozen in place by shock, so he was the only one who saw the door open and Peter Hale walk in.

He stared at Peter, who watched the fight for a few moments with an amused expression.

"I think that's quite enough of that." He said, and although his voice wasn't loud enough to make it over the yelling teenagers, they definitely heard him, judging by the sudden lack of movement. "You two," He said, pointing at Isaac and Erica, who were watching him with shocked expressions. "Come with me. You," He pointed at Stiles, "Come with me. The rest of you, carry on."

Erica and Isaac literally sprang off the bed, and followed Peter immediately, Stiles trailing behind them.

* * *

Stiles had been in Peter's room a couple of times, but only to deliver the wolf his breakfast. Standing there, still holding his sleepwear as the older man actually petted Isaac was quite another thing.

"You don't get into fights." He was saying softly, stroking Isaac's curly hair. "Stupid boy. You'll end up bruised and I don't like that."

"I'm sorry."

"I should punish that Jackson boy." Peter murmured, Isaac saying 'No' at the same time Erica said '**_Yes'_**, which made Peter almost croon at them both. "Oh, you're a vicious one." He said, touching Erica on the cheek. "I quite like that part of you."

She grinned back at him, tossing her golden curls over her shoulder.

Stiles was uncomfortable. Seriously uncomfortable – because Peter was the creepy uncle you were never sure was being genuine or not. He turned to look at Stiles, as though he was seeing him for the first time. "I totally forgot about you, boy." He grinned. "But I think you're not part of my plans, for now." He waved a hand at the door. "Go see if Derek is back, I think he wanted to see you."

Stiles nodded, relieved to be out of Peter's space. As he closed the door gently, he could hear Peter talking again to Isaac, voice soft and just a bit too familiar for Stiles liking. The fact that neither Isaac or Erica seemed to think he was being inappropriate made him question that thought though – and Sarah seemed to think that Peter was harmless. Stiles trusted Sarah.

He walked to Derek's room and knocked before walking in. The room was empty, still with the papers all over the bed and books scattered around.

Deciding the best thing to do was clean up, he put his sleepwear on the back of his chair… _the chair he sat in_- he corrected himself - and started cleaning up. Might as well, there was nothing better to do.

* * *

He decided to put the books away in some kind of order, and was almost finished when Derek walked back into the room. Stiles didn't even notice at first, until he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Why are you here?" He said, looking about the room. "What do you do with my notes?"

"They are over there – in order too." He said, quickly, as the wolf stormed across the room. "And I put page markers on the books that were open before I put them away."

"Why are you here?"

"Um… there was like a fight in our room and Peter took Isaac and Erica and me up here, and he told me to go see if you were back because you wanted to see me? But you weren't here so I thought I'd try to clean up anyway." Stiles let out in one breath.

"You were fighting?" Derek snapped at him. "With a bruise like **_that_** on your head?"

"I wasn't fighting – Isaac was fighting." Stiles said, shrugging. "I was just standing there. And my head feels fine." He yawned. "What did you want, anyway?"

"I have no idea what you just said."

"I said, what did you want to see me for?" He clarified. A glance at the clock showing it was well past 1am now. "Peter said you wanted to see me."

"What?" Derek said, looking over his notes, "No. I didn't – did you add these little bits of paper?"

"Yeah." Stiles nodded walking over to the desk. "See, they say what pages they were stuffed between, and what order they were in." He shrugged. "No one ever understands my notes, so I figured you had a system." He yawned again.

"Go and sit down while I try to fix this mess." Derek grumbled, pulling off his jacket and handing it to Stiles, who clutched at the warm leather and yawned again. "In fact, go and put those on," He pointed in the direction of Stiles sleepwear, hanging drunkenly off the back of the chair. "So I can get my clothes back."

* * *

Stiles sat, curled up on the chair, trying to keep his eyes open for another half an hour while Derek sat at his desk and carefully worked through his notes. Stiles didn't think he'd made that much of a mess, but from the way Derek was frowning at him, he must have fucked up pretty badly.

Finally, around 2am, he gave in, and closed his eyes for good, feet tucked under him and the dying fire warming his bones.

He woke up when his back touched the cold covers of his bed, blinking drunkenly in the dark, before the softness of the sheets and the thick blanket lulled him back into a sound sleep.

* * *

Stiles woke up to the very strange feeling of another person pressed up against his back. He snapped his eyes open, but all he could see was darkness. He was in Derek's room, he had fallen asleep in Derek's chair – he was in Derek's bed. So the person pressed up against his back, an arm slung over his shoulder and a leg tangled between his own… was Derek Hale. His heart was kicking up a storm in his chest, loud enough to wake the dead. Loud enough to wake an **_Other_**, who was starting to move.

"Shh," Derek muttered, breath hot on Stiles neck. "Sleeping."

If that was supposed to calm Stiles down, it **_really_** didn't work. His heart went from 100 miles an hour to trying to break the sound barrier in zero point two seconds. Derek made a sound in the back of his throat that may or may not have sounded like a warning, but all Stiles could hear was the caveman in his species screaming about dangerous animals and why you shouldn't – something warm, comforting… nice… pressed into the back of his neck – cutting off his train of thought and panic immediately. "Tryin t'sleep." Derek muttered, as calm swept over Stiles body like the warmth of a bath.

"I remember this." He said, or tried to say.

"Shh," and Stiles felt Derek flex the fingers that were pressed against his neck, calming him. He **_did_** remember this feeling, the sinking of panic, a blanket of comfort wrapped around him. He just couldn't remember **_where_**… it was the last thing he remembered before sleep claimed him again.

* * *

The heavy clanging and thumping of the machine he was laying inside was causing him to feel seriously nervous. He was naked aside from a thin cotton gown, that didn't quite cover him at the back, a woman talking to him calmly from the other room.

"Just relax, it'll be over soon."

He'd been woken up by Derek elbowing him in the back, before rolling over and going back to sleep after a muttered, "Gibson's looking for you."

Half asleep and bleary eyed, he'd almost walked right into Gibson, who frowned at him. "Where have you been?" He snapped.

"Derek-"

"You have an appointment with Nurse." He cut him off with a wave of his hand. He was groggy and confused, only half aware of what was going on around him.

His lack of attention must have been concerning Nurse, because she only stayed with him a little while before she advised Gibson that they needed the Doctor – and then Stiles was pushed into a small room with a hard bed and fell right back to sleep.

Doctor wanted a CAT scan, and so he was laying in the huge plastic tube listening to clangs and thuds, each one sounding like it was going to result in the whole thing crashing down around his head.

"Are you feeling okay, Stiles?" A voice said over the speaker – no mistaking it.

"Yes, Miss Laura." He said, words only slightly slurred.

"Gibson said you weren't in your own bed last night, did you stay with Derek again?"

"Yes, Miss Laura."

"Did he help you sleep?"

"Uh-huh." He said. "Put his hand on my neck and sent me all calm."

The machine almost instantly shut down, and a few moments later he was being pulled out of the tube and back into the bright room. Laura Hale was standing there, this time without Jackson and Danny around.

"He's fine." She was saying. "Your fine. Go back upstairs, have breakfast and go back to sleep." She turned to Gibson, "Don't wake him, let him sleep it out. He's… just think of him as drunk." She patted Stiles on the arm as he swayed on his feet. "And tell Derek I want to see him." She finished, walking away. "**_Now_**."

* * *

He was expecting Gibson to take him back to the shared space, but he very carefully opened the doors and lead him back to Derek's room, hand gently leading him into the chair by the fire.

"Mr Derek?" He said, once Stiles was seated. "Mr Derek, Miss Laura would like to have a word."

"Sleeping."

"She was… most insistent." Gibson was saying, but Stiles was already drifting off again. "I think she may be unhappy."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure I could say, Sir." Gibson said, "If I could trouble you sir, to help me with Stilinski?"

It was the last thing he remembered hearing before sleep claimed him again.

* * *

"You can't keep him in bed forever." Stiles recognised Peter's amused tone. Stiles was wrapped in thick, warm blankets, and his body refused to move. He tried to make a sound, but nothing happened – he was locked in the half sleep, heart rate steady and body unmoving, but aware of what was going on around him.

"Shut up, Peter." Derek said, voice low. "He's still sleeping."

"He's been sleeping all day. Sarah is **_pouting_**."

"Let Isaac go play with her."

"I'm not letting that boy out of my sight." Peter said, voice bored. "He was **_fighting_**. With his condition, too. What if he'd been hurt?"

"We've got doctors on hand for that."

"I don't care." There was a soft sound that Stiles couldn't place. "I don't see why I can't just have Laura bite them now."

"Because you don't know how they'd react."

"My twins will never leave me."

"It's not about you. **_You_** aren't the Alpha." There was a few seconds of silence where Stiles tried to move, but he was so exhausted it was impossible.

"Are you even sure it was **_him_**?"

"Yes. Laura remembers."

"Laura doesn't remember a damn thing about that night. How could she? Even **_I_** hardly remember a thing after the first bomb. All I remember was you, 13 years old, having a full moon moment in the middle of the hospital."

"I wasn't…"

"Derek, you are my nephew and I **_love_** you, but you almost put him in a coma that day and you-" He stopped speaking. "I think your little bedbug is awake." Peter said calmly. "Sarah **_will_** be pleased."

The bed moved, and covers were pulled back, the soft light of the room making him blink. He tied to move, but his arms and legs were just too heavy. He looked up into the grinning face of Peter Hale. "Ah, my little snug bug. You feel like joining the land of the living?" His hand brushed over Stiles face, warm and oddly comforting, it made him smile.

"Leave him alone." Derek snapped, the sound of his anger kicking Stiles mind into gear. He was in Derek's bed, Peter was there, he had overheard a conversation he really shouldn't have, he was hungry and he really needed to pee. He managed a groan.

"Ah, well, now he is awake." Peter smiled. "I'm going to see what my twins have gotten up to. Let's hope... each other."

"Gross." Stiles managed, which made Peter just pat him on the cheek good naturedly.

"Why do you say that? He's so soft and she's so hard – such a good pair." He leaned forward and kissed Stiles on the forehead, and it wasn't unpleasant. "Nevermind growling at me, Derek." He winked. Pulling back and out of Stiles line of sight. "You'd better try to get some food in this child."

* * *

_**Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I am in love with writing this at the moment, so many ideas keep popping into my head and playing games. I've got about three different places it could go and I'm just working out what I want to go with.**_

_**Thanks again for all the reviews and PM's! So many really detailed and long reviews that I just don't even know where to start but I'm going to go with **_

Thank You

_**Because it is the most honest thing I can say.**_

_Love you like... Hook loves Swan!_


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles lay on his hard bed and listened to the steady breathing of Isaac and the others as they slept. He couldn't drift off, probably having something to do with the amount he had slept that day. He was feeling better now though – and his brain just wouldn't switch off. Had he taken his Aderall? He couldn't remember. No wonder his head was bouncing.

He'd returned to the room he shared with everyone and had gone right into the shower, feeling gross and unclean. He'd taken a little longer than normal, scrubbing hard until he was pink. There was such a massive difference between their showers and Derek's own personal water park – and those grey towels were nothing at all like the thick fluffy ones in the Others bathroom.

When he'd come back out, the others were getting ready for bed. No one mentioned where he had been all day, although Isaac told him that his bruise was starting to look better, and Erica winked at him. He'd already eaten, sitting in the kitchen under the watchful eye of Gibson – who had actually been really nice to him from what he could remember.

They had sat on their beds and chatted for a while, before the beeps signalled that the lights were about to shut off. Jackson and Isaac seemed to be over whatever was in their systems, they were playing cards and acting as though nothing had happened. Danny was chatting to Erica about School, apparently they had a political science class together and both through the teacher was too cute.

Boyd had spent the day in the gardens. Stiles wished for some fresh air, he hadn't left the house or the outbuildings since he arrived. He wondered if there was a rule about leaving the grounds. Erica had gone with Peter though, right?

But now the lights were off and everyone else was asleep, Stiles head was spinning. He kept replaying the conversation between Peter and Derek, going over and over each word and picking it apart. So Peter wanted to turn Erica and Isaac – or have Laura do it, at least. Isaac was going to be getting his wish after all. Peter knew that Isaac was sick – '_with his condition'_, wasn't that what the older Other had said? They had doctors on hand just in case something happened, so what were the blood tests for? It obviously didn't matter to Peter that Isaac had a blood disorder, and he didn't seem to think that it would affect the bite.

Had they been checking to see if they had the blood immunity like Isaac thought? His head was full of questions, bouncing off the sides of his mind like shrapnel. Everyone knew that if you had a pre-existing condition that you were not eligible to be chosen. **_Everyone_** knew that. Isaac had lied, and should have been sent home – but he was still sleeping in the single bed to his right.

And then there was the fact that Stiles hadn't applied at all. Was pretty sure that his dad didn't send in one on his behalf. It was supposed to be a big deal, supposed to be important – you were NEVER picked unless you sent in an application. So why was Stiles here?

Then the conversation about the hospital… Stiles mind was whirring like an engine. They were talking about him, he **_knew_** they were talking about him. He tried to remember – '_after the first bomb went off_' Peter had said, so it would have been about the time of the Terrorist attack…

He tried to remember – but it was like slamming his head into a brick wall. He didn't remember anything about the attack, he wasn't there. He was… 6 years old back then? Something like that. His dad would have just become Sheriff, his mom would have…

His mom.

She would have been at hospital.

* * *

Everyone was shouting. That was all he could hear, shouting and panic – a drastic change to the silence in his moms room, where no one spoke and his dad just sat. He was wearing his Batman cape, he remembered his dad didn't want him to wear it, but he loved it and had cried until he got his way.

He felt a bit silly though, as he walked through the loud white corridors. He shouldn't have cried. It wasn't his mom's fault she was sleepy. Someone pushed past him, covered in blood – and people were still yelling. Not at **_him_** though, no one was yelling at him, and that was good.

A trolley was coming down the corridor, too fast, and he slammed himself against the wall and saw the face of an Other. They were like superheroes, his dad said, strong and powerful and nothing ever hurt them. There was no need to be scared of monsters because the Other were there, and they looked after all the normal people. They looked after people. But the Other on the trolley didn't look like Superman – he looked broken and horrible, sharp teeth and blood everywhere – howling and screaming.

He was a **_monster_**, not a Hero.

So Stiles ran. He ran until he found a quiet corner in a room and curled into a ball, covering his ears with his hands and trying not to see the fangs and blood, the black and cracked skin of a terrible nightmare, the smell of fire and burnt food.

The food was burnt because his mom had fallen asleep in the kitchen when he was watching cartoons. His dad had been so angry when he got home, because Stiles was supposed to help his mom and not watch cartoons – and now she was sleeping and Stiles didn't understand why she wouldn't wake up.

The quiet, empty room was suddenly full of people, doctors in white coats splattered with blood that Stiles didn't want to see, and he tried to cover his eyes to hide the horrible monster that they were tying to the bed. His place of quiet was full of shouting and screaming – a terrible howl of anger and pain as the monster on the bed struggled.

"Miss Hale, please!" someone was pleading. "We need to get the silver out! Someone get me a scalpel!" But his voice was hidden under the screaming of the monster, and Stiles was crying because he was scared and he didn't know what was happening.

"Who are you?" a voice said, and a hand touched his head, the short hair he'd wanted to match his mom so they'd be twins forever. Stiles opened his eyes and saw a Hero.

* * *

"Stiles." He whispered, looking up into the glowing blue eyes.

"Stiles, you need to come with me." He said, holding out his hand, "You can't be here."

"I was trying to hide." He said, as the Hero pulled him to his feet and lead him out of the room. "I saw a monster and I was scared and my mom is sleeping and I was scared."

"There aren't any monsters here." He said, and his hand was nice and warm and Stiles liked holding on to it. "Where is your mom?"

"She's sleeping in the On..on..onc-la-gy room." He whispered, as he tried not to hear all the screaming around them. He gripped the hand he was holding on to tightly, pulling himself closer to the Hero who would protect him. An arm wrapped around his shoulders. "Don't worry." His voice was nice, and it made Stiles think that maybe he **_didn't_** need to worry after all.

"Yes, sir." He said, nodding as he looked up. He'd never seen a real Hero, and this one was… his own.

"We'll go find your mom."

* * *

He didn't want to let go of his Hero's hand, and his Hero was holding on to him tightly as they walked through the quiet white corridors. No one screamed here, no one ever laughed or shouted. Stiles hated it, and his heart was too loud and his hands were all sweaty and he was worried that the Hero would leave because he was just a silly little kid in a Batman cape.

He saw his dad, sitting on the floor outside his moms room, and he was holding his head and he was crying like a little baby. His dad was the biggest man Stiles had ever seen, and he never cried because big boys are strong and crying is for girls. He looked at the Hero, who looked down at him, glowing eyes and a sad face.

His dad wasn't looking at them, still sitting on the floor and crying when Stiles walked around him to go and see his mom.

There were no doctors, which Stiles liked, because they always spoke to his mom or his dad and acted like Stiles wasn't even there, even when he was sitting on the bed cuddled in his moms arms. There were no doctors anywhere.

The room was dark, probably because his mom was asleep, and they had turned off all the beeping machines because they made so much noise. Maybe she had asked them for some quiet time, like she asked Stiles sometimes for some quiet time, where he would play a game to see how long he could sit without making even a **_little_** sound. She had pulled the sheet up over her head, like he sometimes did if he thought there were monsters under his bed, which was strange, because his mom didn't think that monsters were anything to be scared of. She was super brave when it came to stuff like that, but she was scared of spiders. His dad said it was because sometimes girls are silly.

His hand was hurting, because the Hero was holding onto him too tight, but Stiles didn't want to pull his hand away. "Do you think when she wakes up we can go for ice-cream?" He said, forgetting to whisper, then cringing in case he woke her too early. His dad was always telling him to use his indoor voice in the hospital, and Stiles always forgot.

"I think…" The Hero said, trying to pull him out the room. "I think you need to…"

"Stiles?"

"Dad!" He said, turning to see him standing at the door. "Shh!"

His dad was staring at the Hero, because he probably hadn't never seen a **_real_** one either – and he looked so sad that Stiles let go of the warm hand and rushed forward to give his dad a big hug. "We can go get ice-cream when mommy wakes up though, can we?" He whispered into the thick jacket.

"Stiles…" His dad said, grabbing him tightly and pulling him into a massive bear hug that Stiles loved. "Stiles, I need to talk to you."

* * *

He was running, because running was the best way to get away from something **_bad_**, heading down stairs and pushing and tripping and **_running_**. He heard his dad calling his name somewhere behind him, but Stiles was the fastest boy in his class and he was good at running away from bullies like Greenberg who made fun of his hair and pushed him in front of Lydia. He was almost at the door – almost outside, when his Hero grabbed at his arm. No matter how hard Stiles pulled, he couldn't get away. He was crying and hiccuping and his nose was runny and he just wanted to go far, far away – but he didn't have superpowers like the Hero, even though he was wearing his Batman cape. And he was pulled him into a big hug just like his dad.

Stiles was pushing and sobbing, trying to bury his head into the chest of the boy who would not let him go. He felt the hand brush against his hair, his short hair that he'd got shaved down so he would match his mom… his mom who was gone. Gone forever and **_never_** coming back. A hand on the back of his neck and a rumble of 'Shh,' that made him sob harder, before everything just… blurred away.

A warm feeling spread through his body, like stepping into a bath. He sniffed a few times, but had forgotten already why he was so sad. He gripped onto the body that was holding him close, whispering things he couldn't quite hear under the cloud that was around him. He heard something, someone was shouting '_Derek, No!_' before his whole world became black and empty.

* * *

Stiles eyes snapped open instantly, his heart pounding and thumping in his chest like it was trying to break free. He swung his legs out of the bed and walking to the door.

He was so angry, angry because he knew that it was Derek's fault that he didn't really remember what had happened at the hospital, angry because he'd forgotten about his mom – his mom who he'd loved with the pure bright love of a child who thought nothing could ever touch his parents. How he'd felt so guilty for not remembering when his dad had told him – but it had been Derek's fault that he was so blurry. **_Derek_** who somehow blurred everything.

There was no one in the corridors, they were empty and half dark, only the windows letting in the pre-dawn light. He didn't even bother knocking on Derek's door, just opened it and walked into the room.

The wolf was sitting in the middle of the floor, books all around him, pen in hand – his head snapped up as Stiles slammed the door behind him, confusion and anger written on his face.

"You **_knock_**." He snapped. "Before you come in."

"You fuck off!" Stiles snapped back. "You." He pointed, hands shaking. "You were there. I remember. You were **_there_**."

Derek looked confused for a moment, and Stiles just knew he was going to ask '_Where_?' and that would just set him off even worse.

"At the hospital, with my mom." He yelled, not caring who heard. "You were there!"

"You shouldn't listen into conversations that don't concern you." Derek snapped back, eyes glowing blue and teeth lengthening as he got to his feet.

"Doesn't concern me!" He roared. "You brought me here! Why? Did you **_want_** me to remember the worst day of my life?" Stiles was so angry he was shaking. "Did you get off on thinking how being here might remind me about my mom?"

"No!"

"Did you plan this?" He hissed, pushing Derek back with all the force he had. "Did you think it was funny? Did you laugh about how all the doctors were too busy trying to save the monsters that they just left my mom to **_die_**?"

"That didn't happen!"

"Yes it did!" He screamed. "They could have saved her! They could have done **_something_**, but they were all too busy with **_you_**!"

"No!"

"Yes!" He said, shoving again. "YES!" His voice was breaking, anger and frustration. "They all just left her to die!"

"Stiles…" Derek said, his voice quiet and softer than Stiles had ever heard it.

"No!" He hissed. "No! You don't even get to **_talk_** to me."

His voice broke then, a strangled sound he tried to choke back. He could feel hot, angry tears on his face before he was wrapped in strong arms. He tried to push, but Derek was so much stronger than him that all it resulted in was Stiles holding on to the Others shirt, clutched in his hands. "They just let her die." He sobbed, anger replaced with a grief he'd tried so hard to forget, tears soaking into the grey shirt he was leaning into. "They just left her."

"No." Derek said, letting Stiles sob into his chest, chin leaning on his head. "She was sick. There was nothing they could do."

"You don't know that."

"I do." Derek mumbled, still holding tightly. "I… I tried to take your pain away." He said quietly. "I thought it was a pain I could take away, and you were so **_sad_**… but I was just a kid, and I nearly killed you." He sighed, frustrated. "You were almost comatose for a week, and then you didn't really remember – and your dad thought it was better that way."

"My dad knew?"

"Peter spoke to him, had to really, you were out of it… and then I wasn't allowed near you."

"Why?"

"You were so young, and I was going through my first… I was unstable – and my parents had just been killed and… nothing was right." He buried his head into Stiles neck, inhaling deeply. "Your dad and Peter agreed that when you were 17 you'd come here and… it's **_still_** all wrong."

"I don't understand." Stiles said, face still buried in Derek's shirt. It was just starting to kick in what he'd done – how he'd stormed in, yelling, pushing, **_crying_** – he could feel the mortification prickle on his skin like a cold blast. He'd never made such a fool of himself in his life. Ever. He pulled back, feeling the shame and embarrassment wash over him. Derek's shirt was ruined, snot and tears covering it.

"Look, I can try to explain." Derek was saying, not quite removing his arms from around Stiles. "I just need… I need you to sit down and listen to me." He said, looking at Stiles. "And not freak out."

* * *

**_So..._**

**_A flashback! :O The first time I've done one, so not sure how well it worked :s_**

**_I hope you liked it - it was pretty hard to write actually, as I really love Stiles and relate to him LOADS (like a lot of people I guess) and the idea of him being hurt or suffering gives me feels._**

**_Gotta go though - Trying to get my own Imperial Agent off Taris._**

**_Love you like... Turkish Delight in icing sugar._**


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles sat in the chair, his chair, the one facing the fire – and tried not to panic from the way Derek was pacing back and forth, muttering under his breath.

"I don't really remember anything about the attack." He said, suddenly stopping. He was looking at the dancing flames in the fireplace and ran his hands through his hair. "I remember I was babysitting Sarah, and I didn't want to – and we were in the old coal cellar and I was trying to scare her with ghost stories. Then there was a bright flash." He glanced at Stiles, "It was so strange, like… just a flash – no sound or smell – and then Sarah started having a seizure, and then…" He shrugged. "Everything just went to hell."

"They said that the flash grenades were laced with Wolfbane." Stiles remembered. "Enough to incapacitate a fully grown Other."

"And kill a child." Derek said, eyes fixed on the fire. "If we'd been closer to the main house we would have died." He shuddered. "I remember people screaming and I wanted to help, but I was scared – so I picked up Sarah and I ran into the trees." His voice was so soft, like a prayer. "She was shaking and gasping and I was so scared that they would hear her – but they were too focused on my family. I saw them kill my father, heard them laugh about how my mother had tried to defend the nursery… They were all killed, later." He said, looking at his hands. "They were tracked down and every single one of them was killed for what they did to us. But it was too late, really." He was looking into the flames, but Stiles wasn't sure what he really saw.

"I remember that there was a really long time before the police arrived, and then Peter was there, yelling for help – and my uncle Garth, Sarah's dad, was screaming… Peter found us, in the trees – and Sarah was still so sick, and I was confused." He sighed. "The hospital was too loud, and Laura was screaming and… then I saw you."

Stiles expected him to look at him, or turn, or do something, but he just stared in to the dancing flames. "I was thirteen, and you were so small, and so scared and it just… it made me feel better to think about **_you_** rather than all the other stuff that was going on around me. And you smiled at me and I knew. I just knew."

"Knew what?"

"Knew you were… important. To me." He paused, probably aware of the frantic pace of Stiles heart as he tried not to freak out. "You were something for me to think about that wasn't horrible, and you held my hand like you weren't scared."

"I thought you were a hero." Stiles whispered, remembering the feeling of trust and safety.

"You thought your mom was asleep." Derek sighed. "But I knew she'd been dead for a while, and then… then you ran and I grabbed you. All I wanted to do was take away your pain, but I was confused and hurting and…" He let out a groan. "I didn't really know what I was doing, so I just took everything. Peter saw though, stopped me before… you could have died." He paused. "But it was… lucky. Kind of, I guess."

"Why?" Stiles whispered.

"Your mom… she was sick. It was in her blood, you could smell it on her skin." He said, looking back down at his hands. "And then I took too much of you… and I smelt it."

Stiles knew his heart had been beating too fast, but the sudden stillness in his chest was enough to make Derek turn. Stiles blinked. Then blinked again.

"I freaked out. I panicked. I wolfed out in the middle of the hospital and they took you away because they thought I'd hurt you – and it took Peter a long time to talk me down."

"I'm sick."

"Not yet." Derek said, looking down. Stiles heart was beating slow, in perfect time with the clock sitting on top of the fireplace.

**_Not yet._**

"I'm going to die like my mom." He whispered, and he remembered how sick she had been, and how the medicine just made her worse – and he felt his blood turn to ice.

"No." Derek said, getting to his feet. "Laura was the Alpha, and your dad listened to what she told him. You'll get sick. **_Eventually_**, you'll get sick – but you have other options."

"What options?" Stiles said, mind swimming with the pale face of his mom, struggling everyday just to get out of bed. He never wanted to feel like that.

"Me. Us." Derek said, not looking at him. "As part of a deal."

* * *

A deal.

"We're not like… normal people, Stiles." Derek was saying. "We work in different ways – like two separate things in the same space." He ran his hands through his hair. "The Wolf and the Person – and they fight all the time for what they want."

"I don't see where I come in." Stiles said, looking at his hands, wondering if the blood under his skin was already slowly trying to kill him.

"The night in the hospital, when you were just a kid… I **_liked_** you. I thought you were cool in your little cape and the way you trusted me – but my wolf was going crazy." He looked down at his hands. "You don't know what it's like to **_know_**, know deep down in your soul… it's just something we… it's about smells and knowing and feeling…"

Derek was rambling, hands shaking and drifting in and out of sentences, never quite finishing. "And it's horrible because you're normal and won't ever understand…" He started pacing on the floor as Stiles sat and studied his own mortality. He was going to die like his mom.

"Do it." He said, looking up – cutting over Derek's rambling. "I'll do it."

"You need to know-"

"I don't need to know anything. I refuse to go like that. I won't leave my dad like that." He said, getting to his feet. "I refuse. I won't. I'm not putting my dad through that." He said, turning to face Derek, who looked pale and stressed in the light of the room. "No way."

"It's part of a deal." Derek said, looking at him with glowing eyes. "Part of an agreement."

"I agree." He said, instantly.

"you don't know what you are agreeing to." Derek said, "You didn't even want the bite."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. I saw the way you looked at Isaac – how crazy you thought he was for being so desperate." Derek said, raising an eyebrow. "It was all over your face."

"Well, I've just been told I'm going to die, so perhaps a little superhuman good health has become top of my priority list."

"You could still die from the bite." Derek pointed out.

"Are you trying to put me off?"

"I'm trying to make you understand!" Derek said. "You're rushing into this without thinking it through, you're not even asking questions! You always ask questions!"

"Do you know how my mom died?" He said, voice breaking a little. "**_Slowly_**. In pain. Suffering." He took a steadying breath and squared his shoulders, looking right at Derek.

"There is a reason Peter picked Isaac and Erica." Derek said suddenly, changing tactic and stalking forward. Stiles didn't move, held his ground. "He wants them."

"He wants to turn them."

"No. He **_wants_** them." Derek grinned, and Stiles saw too many teeth, and the bright blue eyes that glowed like the moon. "Wants them to play with." He was right in front of Stiles, not too much taller, but all enough that Stiles needed to tip his head to look him in the eye. "Wants them bitten so they'll be strong enough to play back," He leaned forward and Stiles could feel the hot breath on his skin as Derek whispered, "It's part of the deal."

Stiles was seriously trying to keep his heart under control, breathe normally. Not panic. He was not about to pop a boner in fear. Because it **_was_** fear. **_Right_**?

Derek was so close, so very, very close – crowding Stiles personal space without even touching him. "I think I get it." Stiles said, trying to keep his voice even. "Yup, got an image in my head now. Wish I didn't."

"You should leave." Derek said, without moving away. "You should leave now. Before I forget that you aren't a chew toy."

Stiles managed a laugh before he realised that Derek wasn't moving. "You really don't wanna chew on me." He urged.

"No. I want to eat you whole," Derek murmured, sending shivers running over Stiles skin. Derek still hadn't pulled away, and Stiles was frozen on the spot.

The bedroom door swung open and Laura walked in, wearing an oversized t-shirt that skimmed her thighs and not much else.

"I think it's time you went back downstairs, Stiles." She said. "And I have a quick word with my brother about **_what the hell he is thinking_**."

"I didn't touch him."

"Oh, I think at this point that is merely a technicality." She said, voice hard. "We discussed this. You don't touch him unless he accepts the offer."

"I accepted." Stiles blurted, then realised that perhaps that wasn't the right thing to say. "I mean – I said I wanted the bite."

"I heard." She shrugged, not taking her eyes from Derek. "But what my brother has neglected to inform you, is that if you accept this gift, you will be the Omega here, and that comes with some downsides. Namely, you'll be on the lowest rung of our household – and be available to the needs of the Pack."

"I can do that." Stiles nodded. After all, it wasn't much different to how things were, right?

"Those needs will include the… intimate… needs." She pointed out, delicately. "Which Derek had not advised you about."

"Oh."

"Yes. **_Oh_**." She said. "You will go and awake Isaac and Erica. Bring them to the study. It seems my brother has decided to move up my plans."

* * *

**_And I have officially got writers block. This was HELL TO WRITE and I hate it. _**

**_I struggled with every bloody sentence and I am so done with this I CANT EVEN._**

**_So there might be a slight delay in the next chapter (a day, 2 MAX - promise!) just so I can get my head back into the right (write) zone._**

**_I love all the feedback I have gotten and I'm glad so many of you liked the flashback! :D_**


	11. Chapter 11

"If you accept the bite, you will be – as all new pack members are – Omegas. Although many humans do not differentiate between Omegas and Betas, there are many differences that you should be aware of." Laura said, her words sounding as though she was reading them from an auto cue.

Peter was standing behind Isaac and Erica, his hands resting on their shoulders as they sat on the couch. Stiles was in a chair – Derek sitting by the window and not looking at them at all.

"Omegas are the bottom of the pack social order. You may be asked to do personal tasks that cannot be completed by normal humans. You may be requested as sexual partners for Betas who are unmated. You have the right to say no – of course – but the bite will change your blood chemistry and mating cycles are often... unpredictable... saying no to a request by a Beta may cause unpleasantness." She glanced at Peter and frowned. "This does not mean that you will be tied to a bed and ravaged."

"Unless you like that kind of thing." Peter added, with a smirk.

"You will be, as Omegas, unable to challenge the word of the Alpha. It will cause you almost physical pain to do so. It is well within my rights as Alpha to kill any who challenge my will – as Omegas you will not be strong enough to defeat me."

She looked at her well manicured nails and buffed them on her jeans. "Once bitten you will be, for a time, overwhelmed by your surroundings. It is well documented that new Omegas often find even the smallest sound painful, and struggle with the change in vision and smells. Urges, desires and feelings will be amplified after the bite – you will find it very difficult to control your tempers, those feelings that you hide deep inside yourself will rise to the surface. You will fight, argue, fall in and out of love and become irrational. This normally lasts between a month and a year, and in this time you will not be allowed to leave the grounds."

Isaac was nodding, already convinced. Stiles looked over at Erica whose expression was conflicted. Stiles had never wanted the bite – but faced with a slow death… he knew that he could not take any other option. He wasn't a coward, but he was scared of the pain his mother endured. He couldn't go through that. Couldn't put his father through that.

"What about our families?" Erica said, glancing at Isaac.

"Your parents will be informed of your decision, where appropriate."

"I don't understand, what do you mean, where appropriate?"

"Isaac's father will not be informed, as per an agreement between Peter and myself. Stiles father is aware of the offer already."

Erica glanced at them both, left and right, before nodding slowly. "Okay," She said. "What about Danny and Jackson? Or Boyd?"

"I have not yet reached a decision." Laura said, looking back at her nails. "I am working with an escalated time-frame."

Stiles thought he saw Derek flinch at her words.

"Do you accept the offer?"

"Yes." Isaac said, instantly, and Peter petted his hair with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"Yes." Erica said, after a few moments, gripping the taller boy by the hand and giving an awkward grin.

They looked at Stiles, who was wound tightly. "Yes." He said, and he was sure that Derek actually slumped in relief.

* * *

Stiles looked at his plate, piled high with food and felt his stomach contract. He wasn't sure if he could eat a thing. Erica was attacking a stack of pancakes with gusto though, lathering them with syrup. Isaac was picking at his scrambled eggs delicately, but not actually eating anything either.

"What do you think will happen?" Isaac whispered. "Do you think it'll hurt?"

"Yes." Stiles replied.

"Like a bitch." Erica said, swallowing a mouthful of pancakes. "Bound to, I mean. It's a **_bite_**."

"Will they give us painkillers?"

"Don't know," Erica said, reaching forward and grabbing some bacon from the large serving platter. "Maybe. No one ever talks about it, do they?"

"I looked into it." Isaac admitted. "There wasn't anything online though."

They had been sent back to the kitchen to eat, Gibson leaving them to their own devices. It was the first time Stiles had eaten with someone other than Derek.

"What do you think about the whole… sex thing?" Erica said, glancing at them both. Stiles could feel himself pale at the same time Isaac blushed.

"I dunno." The taller boy said, looking down at his plate. "I guess… I kind of expected it?" Stiles wasn't sure if that was a question.

"Peter made it pretty obvious." Erica agreed. "I just don't know how I'd feel about sleeping with **_everyone_**."

"You think we'll have to?" Stiles asked, it had been worrying him.

"I don't think so. I get the feeling… we've been paired off already." Isaac said, glancing up at Erica rather than Stiles. "I mean, Peter already picked **_us_**."

Which left Stiles as the only person in the house that hadn't been… paired up.

**_Great_**.

* * *

Gibson lead them outside, into the large gardens and gave them a critical look. "Well." Was all he said before turning around and leaving them standing there. Stiles glanced at Isaac, who shrugged. The sun was just starting to creep over the horizon, giving everything a subtle glow. Around them, haze and moisture on the grass rose like smoke, Stiles was already cold.

"I'm so confused." Stiles admitted, glancing around. "Are we supposed to be doing something?"

"Actually, yes." A female voice said. They turned as one and looked at Abigail, the older Other, who was watching them with glowing blue eyes. "The bite is very traumatic to the body." She said, leaning heavily on her walking stick. "Chances of survival are increased if the body is producing enough adrenaline to keep the heart pumping through the process."

"What do you want us to do?" Isaac asked, voice betraying nerves for the first time.

"I expect you to run." She smiled. "The hunt is on."

* * *

Stiles was running. They had started off pretty slowly, a brisk walk together, until they heard the howls. Stiles wasn't even sure why, but the sound filled him with panic, dread – fear. It was primal and pure, he'd stumbled, panicked and bolted for the trees. He wasn't even sure if Isaac and Erica had done the same until he saw Erica ahead of him, blond hair streaming behind her as she raced through the trees, face a mask of fear.

He was sure he could hear the wolves behind him, but when he turned his head, nothing was there. The forest wasn't quite dark, the sun had just started to hit the tops of the trees, and the dense cover of the branches made the light fragmented and dim. He could see enough to run, and that was all that mattered.

It appeared from nowhere, huge and black, bright blue eyes that glowed un-naturally bright in the dim forest. Stiles heart stopped then started beating twice as fast, he tripped, then scrambled to his feet, turning and running blindly in the other direction. Behind him he heard a roar, one that skipped past fear and flipped the switch on blind terror, pushing him further. He wasn't even able to think, his mind had shut down – fear and escape all he knew.

A scream in the distance, pain filled and terrifyingly short caused him to stumble on a fallen branch, slamming his body hard against the hard ground. Leaves and dirt blocked his mouth as he tried to push up seeing spots on his vision and lungs burning as he tried to breathe. Not too far away he heard a low growl before something grabbed his ankle. Stiles kicked blindly, connecting with something hard before another scream in the distance was cut short.

Panicking, he kicked again, hearing a whine as his foot was let go, he hauled himself to his feet and ran as though his life depended on it. He was the caveman, fleeing for his life, terrified of the shadows and the shapes that loomed everywhere. Running on pure adrenaline, he leapt over a fallen tree, landing heavily on his ankle. Pain only fuelled his desire to keep running as his vision became sharp and focused.

He didn't see the shadow on his left until it leapt at him, crashing his body to the ground and biting deeply into his side, pain and agony shooting through him as he struggled to breathe. He tried to call out, but no sound escaped his lips – he could taste blood in his mouth as he struggled to get to his feet. He managed to get a few steps before collapsing to his knees – and he knew he was going to die as the world went black.

* * *

It was dark when he opened his eyes, face down on the soft leaves, the smell of dirt in his nose. He tried to pull himself up, but the sharp and sudden pain that laced through his body was enough to keep him still. His body felt as though it was fizzing, bubbling and popping like Alka-Seltzer under the skin. A shiver ran over his skin, causing goose-flesh and pain at the movement. He heard movement behind him, a stumbling step that quickened his heart and sent his mind into a tailspin. He tried again to push himself up, pain washing over him like a wave, threatening to pull him under and drown him. He could see the shape, tripping and falling as though drunk through the trees. He managed to pull himself up, leaning against a tree, desperate for the shadows to swallow him up. The figure stopped, head turning quickly from side to side.

"Who's there?" it called, and Stiles knew the voice.

"Isaac?" He asked, throat rough and voice coming out in nothing more than a dry whisper.

"Stiles?" The shadow called, reaching out a hand in his direction. "Stiles, is that you?"

"Yeah." He managed, eyes adjusting to the dark.

"I can't find Erica." The taller boy whined. "I can't. I've been looking for hours."

"We'll look together." Stiles said, trying to push up from the tree. Pain bloomed and he let out a gasp, almost falling over, stopped only because Isaac grabbed him around the waist.

"It'll get easier." Isaac said, looping Stiles arm around his neck and pulling him upright. "I couldn't even move at first."

"You think I'm dying?"

"No." Isaac said, "I've stopped bleeding." He leaned into Stiles for a moment. "I've stopped bleeding."

It took Stiles a few moments to remember why that might be a big deal for Isaac. "That's awesome, dude." He managed, as he took a few hesitant steps, leaning heavily against the taller boy.

"I just need to find Erica." He said, "I promised I'd find her."

By the time they found her, sitting on a moss covered tree trunk, Stiles could walk on his own, although Isaac still held onto his hand. It was nice, comforting and warm.

"Erica?" Stiles said, as Isaac surged forward, letting Stiles hand go as he wrapped himself around the sitting girl.

"I thought you had left me." She whispered, her voice full of relief. "I thought I was alone out here."

"What should we do now?" Isaac said, helping her to her feet.

"Go back, I guess." She said, supported between them both, her arms around each of the boys necks as she walked between them, making little hurt noises with each tentative step.

"Are we going in the right direction?" Stiles asked, after they had been walking for a while, with no end to the forest.

"I guess." Isaac said. "It kinda feels like we're going the right way."

"Yeah."

"I guess."

* * *

By the time they reached the forest edge, all three were able to walk without assistance, but were unwilling to let go of each other. Erica was holding tightly on to Stiles hand, while Isaac hand his arm around her waist.

The trees started to thin out, and within a few steps they were looking at the massive stretch of green that lead to the house. The lights shining from the windows like welcoming beacons, calling them back home.

They crossed the grass, cold air causing their breath to fog around their heads. Stiles felt a strange tug in his gut, a feeling that had only gotten stronger the closer they got to the house. "Do you feel a bit weird?" He asked the others, unable to really explain what he was feeling.

"Yeah." Isaac nodded. "Like being pulled on the inside."

"Thank God." Erica breathed. "I thought it was just me."

The door to the staff corridor was closed, and Erica knocked loudly, the sound vibrating through Stiles head. He hadn't had a headache like this since he'd gotten Scott totally drunk on his dads whiskey. They waited a few moments, the sound of a key turning in the lock unnaturally loud to Stiles, and the door swung open.

Gibson looked genuinely taken aback, standing unmoving as they stared at him.

"Family use the front door." He said, stepping back to allow them into the warmth of the house. "Please, follow me."

Rather than take them to their shared room, as Stiles had expected, Gibson walked through the house and into the wide corridor where the bedrooms of the Family were. He paused at a door and swung it open.

"This is where you will stay for the time being." He said, walking through. It was well decorated, just like Derek's room, or Peters. There were three desks, three chairs, three massive closets – but only one bed.

"You may wish to shower." Gibson said, looking them over. "Please leave these clothes outside your room when you are done, your new wardrobe had already been selected." He added before closing the door behind him.

"This is more like it!" Erica said, walking into the room and looking about. "This is **_nice_**."

Stiles looked at her, with her wild hair and muddy skin, blood on her chin and clothes torn and ragged, and then down at his own clothes. There was a huge rip in the shirt, right down to the skin, where he could see the bite-mark, red and swollen, but not painful.

"I'm going to have a shower." He said walking towards the only other door in the place. He pushed open the door and nodded, it was almost a carbon copy of Derek's room, the only difference was the colour – this was a creamy white marble whereas Derek had a grey speckled. Not even bothering to look around, he quickly stripped and stepped into the large shower, turning it on as he did so. The moment the hot water hit his skin, he let out a contented sigh, the water pooling at his feet a dirty brown colour, tinged with red as the drying blood was washed off his pale flesh.

He was enjoying the warmth when the glass door slid open and Isaac walked in, followed almost instantly by Erica. Although they had been using a shower in the communal area that they shared with Jackson and the others, Stiles felt very awkward in this much more intimate space. "You could have waited till I was finished." He muttered, handing Isaac the bodywash. The water at their feet was disgusting, draining away slower as the drain was clogged by small leaves and clumps of dirt that took longer to dissolve.

"Yeah, we were going to." Isaac said. "But then I was like… why bother – it's not like we've never seen each other naked before."

"Well, yeah, but this is a little closer than before."

"You'll need to get used to it." Erica said, reaching between the two boys for the shampoo bottle. "From what Laura said, it's gonna be pretty hands on from now."

"Thanks for reminding me." Stiles muttered, which made Erica laugh and splash some water at him.

They figured out a pretty good system in the end, Erica requiring a bit of help with her hair as the long blond stands had managed to capture small twigs that the water had made almost impossible to pull out. With both Isaac and Stiles – and a whole bottle of conditioner – carefully picking out the small parts of bark and branches, they finally rinsed and turned off the water.

The towels were huge, white and fluffy, Erica making purring noises as she wrapped one around herself, using another smaller one to wrap around her hair. She then parked herself in front of the mirror and shoo'd them out of her way. Isaac rolled his eyes at Stiles, before heading out of the steam filled room, and Stiles followed, towel wrapped around his hips.

Isaac was opening the closet doors and checking out the clothes. "This is Erica's I guess," He said, holding up a bright red corseted top, before shutting the closet door. "Unless you aren't telling us something." He grinned, causing Stiles to laugh.

"This is mine for sure." He said looking through the clothes neatly hanging up. "So that," He pointed. "Is yours."

The clothes were… well, they were almost exactly what Stiles would have picked if he'd been given an unlimited budget. Logo t-shirts in bright colours with indie labels, a few checked shirts weren't bought from GAP – judging by the Italian tag he couldn't understand – and a couple of hoodies with Japanese labels. Even running his hands over the clothes, you could feel the wealth – the expense.

He pulled the drawers to find underwear – the same brand that Derek wore, he noted – and sleep wear that was mostly just black pants in a soft cotton, much softer than anything he'd ever worn before. He pulled those out and glanced over at Isaac, who had already pulled on a pair of silk looking pyjama bottoms in a pale blue. From what he could see, Isaac's clothes were much more tailored, more adult, than the clothes that Stiles had been given.

Stiles quickly pulled on the soft cotton pants and roughly dried his hair – it didn't need much, being so short. He was lucky, he guessed, because Isaac's mousy brown curls were sticking up in all different directions.

Stiles wasn't really that tired, but his body was hurting – aching all over like he'd spent hours and hours on the lacrosse pitch. He climbed up on to the bed and sat on the covers, fingers tracing the outline of the bite on his skin absentmindedly.

"How long do you think it'll take to change us?" Isaac said, crawling up onto the bed as Erica left the bathroom, hair perfectly dried and in place, golden curls bouncing around her shoulders and back. Stiles found it very difficult to pull his eyes away from her, long legs visible from the towel that skimmed her thighs. Beside him, Isaac shifted uncomfortably.

"Sorry, what?" Stiles managed, looking at the other boy, who was also staring at Erica like a starving man looks at a steak.

"How long to do you think that it'll take, you know," He said, voice trailing off as Erica pulled out a black silk… something… and wandered back into the bathroom. Isaac shook his head as though to clear it. "I mean, to change us." He finished, blushing.

"I don't know." Stiles replied, eyes fixed on the bathroom door. "Soon maybe?" He suggested, only to have his mouth go dry as Erica walked out of the bathroom in something that Stiles assumed was a very expensive silk… **_thing_**. He was finding it seriously difficult to concentrate on anything but the way the silk was moving over her skin. He heard a low growl, confused for a moment before he realised that it was coming from him. Erica gave him an odd look, glancing at Isaac, who was already moving towards her, a low growl vibrating through his body. Stiles grabbed the other boy by the leg and hauled him back to the middle of the bed with ease, a growl escaping him. He wasn't about to let Isaac get in the way of what he wanted…

The bedroom door was thrown open and both Peter and Derek walked through, Peter looked seriously amused, while Derek just looked pissed off.

"I told you." Peter said, grinning at his nephew, "That the boys would take to it faster."

"Shut up, Peter." Derek snapped, before pointing his finger at Stiles. "You, come with me." He half barked, stalking out of the room, not even bothering to check if Stiles was doing as he was told.

Normally, Stiles would have a retort, something sarcastic to say, but he was slightly freaking out over the fact that he'd very nearly jumped Erica. Still wanted to, still found it difficult to walk past her without reaching out.

"Stiles!" Derek snapped from the corridor, and Stiles trailed out, unhappily.

"It's not fair!" He whined, once the door to Derek's room was shut firmly. "Why does Isaac get her?"

"No one '**_gets_**' her." Derek snapped. "You're not thinking straight."

Stiles glared at him, anger and frustration bubbling up in him like water in a fountain. "I'm thinking just fine." He hissed, before stalking around the wolf in a wide circle.

"No, you aren't." Derek repeating, watching him with an amused expression that Stiles just itched to smack off his face. He heard another low growl, realised this time that it was his own voice – felt his hands contract into fists. "Don't be an idiot." Derek said, glancing at Stiles firsts and brushing him off with an almost indulgent look.

Stiles launched himself at the older wolf, hands swinging wildly. The more Derek dodged each punch, the anger inside Stiles grew. When Derek pushed him back, one handed and almost knocking him clear across the room, Stiles felt his anger burst like a dam, pouring out of him like a torrent.

He tasted blood in his mouth, teeth sharp against his tongue, as he grabbed for Derek, no longer punching but swiping, snapping his jaws at the older man as he lunged again and again. Derek was much faster than him dodging and weaving with ease. Only once he faltered, and Stiles managed a nip at his arm, drawing blood. Derek roared in anger and slammed Stiles bodily into the floor. It should have hurt, it should have broken something – a rib or two at the least, but Stiles hardly felt it, instantly kicking and clawing as Derek leaned forward and bit him hard on the shoulder, sharp teeth drawing blood instantly, one hand trapping both of Stiles over his head with ease.

The pain of that was real, the sharp, dominating pain that washed out all of Stiles anger instantly, replacing his growls with whimpers. It was only then that Derek removed his teeth, licking the bleeding skin until Stiles actually felt the puncture wounds heal.

The fact that Derek Hale was covering Stiles body completely suddenly kicked in, the wolf pressing him hard into the floor as he continued to lick the bite he had inflicted. "Idiot." Derek muttered, hot breath burning into Stiles like a brand. "You aren't thinking."

"I'm thinking just fine." Stiles managed, pain in his shoulder already fading like a distant memory. "I don't like being dismissed."

"You don't like a lot of stuff." Derek muttered, still mouthing Stiles shoulder. He was trying to think, trying to use his brain, but he felt hyped up and wound too tightly, and the feeling of Derek pressing him down… Stiles managed nothing more than a moan, needing something he couldn't even name, moving under Derek slightly, trying to ease the pressure building up in his skin.

Derek let out a small sound that sounded… surprised, which had a warming effect through Stiles. His hands were still over his head, wrists held in place by one of Derek's hands, restricting his movement. He squirmed, trying to get some form of leverage as Derek nipped at his freshly healed shoulder. "Stop it." He said, voice strained.

"Can't." Stiles managed, "Feel strange."

"If I let you go, are you going to try to attack me again?"

"No."

"Good." Derek said, and Stiles instantly found himself pulled to his feet. "I'm going to get changed." The wolf said, giving Stiles a strange look. "Stay here."

* * *

It wasn't until Derek left the room that Stiles started to become aware of a few things. Things like his boner that the soft cotton was doing absolutely nothing to hide. No wonder Derek had pulled him to his feet! Jesus, he had been squirming under the wolf and moaning. Stiles mortification was complete, he was going to die of sheer shame. His body though, wasn't getting the frantic 'desist' messages he was sending, he remained rock hard. He wondered if he'd be able to dive into the bathroom once Derek had gotten changed and jerk off real quick.

He didn't really have the time though, to think too much about it – because Derek was already walking out of the bathroom in a pair of black cotton bottoms that were identical to the ones that Stiles was wearing, and Stiles was utterly distracted by the broad, muscular chest of the wolf, that trail of hair that lead down under the elastic of his pants… and the low growl he heard came from his own throat.

Derek frowned, brows knitting together as he looked at Stiles. "Hit me, and I'll hit you back." He warned, as he walked over to the bookcase. "Bed." He said, pulling a book from the shelf and sitting in the chair facing the fire.

"I'm not tired."

"Do as you are told." Derek snapped, snapping the book shut with frustration. Stiles found himself laughing.

"I think we've had this conversation before." He grinned.

* * *

**_And thats where I had to stop writing because I promised myself that I'd get a chapter out today and if I keep going you'll not get it._**

**_Not like _****_Stiles_****_ is gonna get it._**

**_OMG. PORN IS ON MY MIND!_**

**_Hope this answers some questions about the whole Omega thing, and the whole sex dynamic. You people. Seriously. So many PM's and reviews along the lines of:_**

**_OMG YOU CANNOT HAVE STILES BE A SEX SLAVE!1!_**

**_Like, _****_please_****_, people. _**

**_Trust me._**

**_Again._**

**_;)_**


	12. Chapter 12

Stiles stalked about the room, mind jumping from thought to idea, to action and back again. He felt as though he was about to burst at the seams, rip apart – burst.

"Stiles, go and lay down." Derek muttered, opening his book again. "You'll feel better."

"No." He snapped, hating that Derek thought he could tell him what to do.

"If you don't do what I tell you, I'm going to rip your throat out." Derek replied calmly, turning the page of his book as though he didn't have a care in the world. "With my teeth."

"I don't care." Stiles said, turning again and walking back towards the window. "I feel like I'm going to explode."

"If you rest you'll feel better."

Stiles didn't know why he did it, or even how he did it, but one moment he was stalking back and forth, making tracks on the thick carpet, and the next both his feet hit the back of the chair Derek was sitting in, almost catapulting the older wolf into the fireplace.

Stiles was on his back, trying to catch his breath. He'd not expected to lash out – hadn't even used his brain to work out how to launch himself across the room, he just… jumped.

Derek, blue eyes glowing with fury and rage, picked him up by the throat and dragged him upright, nails digging into Stiles neck. "What the hell was that?" He barked, and all Stiles could think about was the way his feet were almost touching the ground, toes scraping along the carpet. The hand around his throat was painful, but not enough to distract from the corded muscle and tendon of Derek's arm, or the emotions that were playing in his head. Everything was… different. He wasn't able to keep his mind focused at all, his mind thundering with information. Did Derek always smell like pears and cinnamon before? Was the carpet always so thick? Why was the fire crackling so loudly?

He closed his eyes and tried to fight the onslaught of information, but that just made it worse. He let out a groan.

"I'm not hurting you." Derek snapped, putting him back on his feet and letting go of his hold on Stiles neck.

He was standing so close, close enough that Stiles could see the pulse of blood through the wolfs veins, feel Derek's breath on his skin, smell the heat radiating from his body. He took a deep breath in through his nose, smelling things he'd never even **_known_** had a smell. The frustration on Derek, the scent of food that lingered from his breakfast, the soap Stiles had used – his own skin, soaked in so many different smells he couldn't pick one out. Eye closed, he breathed in again, letting everything wash over him. He could smell the fire, the wood, the fresh sweat from his body, pears, paper… Unthinking he swayed forward, almost crashing into Derek who grabbed him by the shoulders. Stiles loved the smell of skin and sweat and Derek, leaning further in to the older wolf and inhaling deeply. He could hear a growl, deep and low, as he pushed himself closer to Derek, until he was able to smell only him, eyes tightly closed and blocking everything else. He stepped forward, pushing against the grip on his shoulders, until his face was pressed up against the crook of Derek's neck.

The smell overtook everything. The growl he heard had become a whine, desperate and needy, as he tried to get closer still.

"Stiles." Derek said, voice cool and calm. "Stop it."

The growl was dangerous and low, threatening and deadly as Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's shoulders, trying to press himself deeper into the crook of Derek's neck.

"Stiles." Derek repeated, and this time Stiles could smell more. He let out a groan, nuzzling and pushing, using his grip to pull himself up, legs wrapping around the other wolf and giving him better access to his neck, where there were so many delicate scents that he couldn't get enough of. Soap, sweat, pears, cotton, paper… all mixed with something he just couldn't place, couldn't put a name to. The noises he could hear were urging him on, needy, desperate for… **_something_**.

Derek let out a sigh on a deep breath, and it was only then that Stiles realised that the sounds he was hearing, he was making. It cleared his head almost instantly, and he realised a few things right away.

His legs were wrapped around Derek's waist like a spider monkey, he was most **_definitely_** grinding his hard on into Derek Hale – and he was making desperate begging sounds in the back of his throat. And Derek was just standing there.

"Well, this is mortifying." He admitted, unable to move. His throat felt rough and overused, voice coming out in a half growl, half whine.

"It's not really your fault." Derek said, and Stiles could hear the tension in his voice, wound tightly. He looked down at Derek's neck, red and wet where he had been nuzzling, a patch of too pink skin in the shape of…

"Did I bite you?" Stiles squeaked, he could actually feel the colour drain from his face.

"Yes."

"I'm really sorry." He said, putting his forehead on Derek's shoulder and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. "If you are going to kill me could you make it like, really quick? And painless? Mostly painless." He said, nuzzling again, unaware of what he was doing. "Will Laura be pissed if you killed me?" He murmured, teeth scraping over skin. "I mean, with the blood in the carpets and things?" He nudged at Derek's neck, gently nipping and nuzzling as he did so. The older wolf tipped his head back to allow him better access, and Stiles felt the growl deep his own throat.

Derek was moving, Stiles was dimly aware of the air on his skin, cool and warm at the same time, mind franticly trying to tell him something… but all around him he could smell Derek, and it was **_perfect_**.

Something soft but firm pressed into his back, snapping him back to the land of the self-aware an instant before Derek leaned him back onto the mattress, covering his body. "This is… um… hey… hi… um." Was all he could think to say, words completely abandoning him.

"You're going to have to unwrap you-" Derek muttered, at the same time Stiles mind caught up with him, unhooking his legs from behind Derek's back and letting go of the grip on his shoulders.

"Sorry." He blushed, as Derek pulled away.

"Just stay there." He muttered, turning his back and walking to his chair.

Stiles crawled back on the bed, pulling the covers over his head and praying that he could die. He couldn't bring himself to walk to the bathroom and jerk off, and there was no way he was going to be able to do it in Derek's bed, so he closed his eyes tightly and prayed that his body would get the hint.

* * *

He woke up when Derek climbed onto the other side of the bed, shocked that he'd even fallen asleep.

"Derek?" He said, quietly, thankful for the dark and the covers that hid his face.

"Jesus, Stiles, just go to sleep."

"I just wanted to say sorry." He said, feeling like an idiot.

"It's not your fault." Derek muttered, rolling onto his back. Stiles could almost feel the head pooling off his body, close enough to touch.

"I'm still sorry." He said, head clearer than it had been earlier. Good God, he'd climbed Derek Hale like a spider, all arms and legs. Derek Hale, who probably was super uncomfortable about being in the same bed with him. "I could go back to my room now." He mumbled. "I don't know what I was thinking earlier."

"You'll stay where you are." Derek snapped, rolling and pulling Stiles into his body. "Laura is already **_pissed_** with me; I'm not letting you out of my sight."

He was gripping Stiles arm tightly, the angriest spooning position ever, thankfully Stiles was the little spoon, because even sleep hadn't taken away the raging boner that was making his life hell. The feeling, though, of Derek's body pressed back against his, was enough to make his brain fire up.

"Dude, you are making it worse." Stiles whined, trying to wriggle away from the hot feel of Derek's skin on his naked back. The feel of Derek's hard…

Derek was **_hard_**. He was super, **_super_** hard, pressed against Stiles back. Stiles stopped moving completely, brain working too fast for his body to catch up to his thought processes.

"Just go to sleep." Derek said, his voice a warning.

"You've got a boner." Stiles said, because apparently he was lacking in **_anything_** resembling self-preservation. Derek didn't move, didn't try to put more space between them or even deny it. "You spent nearly a full half hour climbing me like a tree." He snapped, sounding pissed. "What the hell do you think was going to happen?"

"But… but you're like… you're Derek Hale!" Stiles whined. "You don't… it's not… holy crap, you're like, really, **_really_** hard."

"Shut up, and go to sleep."

"I can't go to sleep now!" Stiles half whined. "How can I go to sleep when you're totally poking me in the back?" Derek sighed, and pulled away from Stiles, or at least tried to – but Stiles rolled with him, turning so he was half on his back, half facing the wolf, still pressed tightly to his side. "Why do you smell so nice?" he mumbled, blushing even as he said it.

"Don't think about it."

"But you do." Stiles said, sniffing the air. "It makes it hard to think."

"What do you want, Stiles?" Derek sighed, sounding more exasperated than pissed off.

"Can I just smell you a little?" Stiles mumbled, mortified that he was even saying the words. It was like his mouth didn't have a filter, saying everything that was popping into his mind.

"Fine." Derek muttered, "But if you bite me," He warned – but Stiles was already nuzzling into Derek. There was something he just couldn't place, something that seemed to stop his brain from working correctly. He was aware of the sounds in the back of his throat, the heady smells that were messing with his ability to focus.

Derek moved slightly, sliding his arm under Stiles body to pull him closer, which Stiles agreed with totally. "S'nice." He muttered against the hot skin of the other wolf. "S' really nice." If Stiles got too insistent, Derek would growl at him – push his head away with his chin - it pissed Stiles off.

"Don't push me away." He snapped, temper flaring dangerously, hands pushing Derek's head to one side so he could have better access to his neck, which resulted on him landing, rather quickly, on the floor on the other side of the bed, in a heap of gangly arms and legs, Derek's feet hitting the carpet. "What the fuck was that for?" He raged, trying to pull himself to his feet, only to be knocked back down on his ass by the Beta.

"Stiles, I swear to God, if you don't behave I'm going to tie you to the bed." Derek snapped, pointed teeth showing.

"Promise?" Stiles found himself saying, mouth working without engaging his brain once again. He would never have said that – he'd have thought it, sure – but he would never had actually said it before. And then he wouldn't have seen the totally unsure, slightly shocked expression on Derek's face change to something mid-way between amusement and **_'damn fucking right' _**just for an instant before settling on 'Seriously Pissed'.

"If you keep this up I'll send you through to Peter." He warned.

"No you won't." Stiles said, still sprawled on the floor, looking up at the Beta. "You won't let Peter anywhere near me."

"Shut up." Derek snapped. "And get back into bed."

"You threw me out!"

"You-" Derek snapped back, then stopped. "I'm not getting into an argument with you." He said, turning back and getting back under the covers. "Sleep on the floor if you like."

* * *

Stiles woke up when Derek lifted him off the floor and muttered something about him being a stubborn idiot, before he fell back to sleep, wraped warm and safe.

* * *

**_This was the chapter that JUST WOULDN'T WRITE._**

**_I don't know why I'm getting such bad writers block with this, but I'm stumbling over the keyboard like a drunk at a Christmas Party._**

**_Y U NO let me write you, story?!_**

**_I think I need... crackers and cheese and chocolate. _**

**_Oh, actually, I think I might have some salted caramel somewhere. BONUS._**

**_Until tomorrow!_**

**_Love you like... Deathwing Loves Barbecue! _**


	13. Chapter 13

Derek awoke to the not unpleasant sensation of a warm body wrapped around him, the fuzzy feel of short hair on his shoulder, an arm slung across his chest.

He liked Stiles much more when he wasn't testing his control, sleeping – unconscious, _whatever_ – this was the best time. He was warm and soft in sleep, not always confusing Derek with his words or actions. The bite had made him uncontrollable. He almost envied Peter, with Isaac who was more than likely not sleeping on the floor just to be stubborn – then he remembered that Peter was… well… **_Peter_**.

He'd come so close to sinking more than his teeth into Stiles last night, a danger he'd not expected. Laura, pissed and bitching, had told him that he deserved what he got when it came to Stiles, and at the time Derek had brushed it off. He expected the violence, the temper fits and the anger – he'd looked into what happened when people were bitten years ago. He'd never read anything about wilful disobedience or the lack of brain to mouth filter.

Jesus, he'd actually talked about Derek being **_hard_**. Thank God it had been dark, because Derek must have turned scarlet. He'd never been so embarrassed in his life.

But now, wrapped up warm, body relaxed and totally at ease, Derek was able to really look at him. Pale skin, dotted with moles – soft brown hair that was too short to grip. His mouth was slightly open, warm breath across Derek's chest, and he couldn't help but remember the feel of that mouth on his neck. But the best part was his eyes.

The first time that little kid had looked up at him in the hospital, he'd been utterly **_fucked_** for anyone else. Gold and flecked with brown, thick lashes framing them. He'd never seen another human with eyes like that – normally they had dull brown eyes with sparks of gold or bronze, but that kid had the eyes of a cat. Then last night, they'd been glowing – glowing gold, and Derek had breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been worried Stiles would end up with blue eyes like him.

They said it took anywhere from a couple of hours to a week before the bite would take hold, Peter insisting that the boys would change much faster than Erica, who would end up being the late bloomer. They'd been walking back to their rooms when Derek had heard the growls, and he'd been furious that Stiles was stalking Erica, moving sinuously towards her.

The thing was… as soon as Erica did turn, she'd be twice as bad as the boys. Laura had only agreed to turn her because they had both Isaac and Stiles for her to rip into. Derek had agreed because he was getting what he wanted, but now… he didn't want Stiles anywhere near another wolf. **_Ever_**.

Sarah was going to be an issue.

He'd not expected her to like Stiles. She'd been almost obsessively watching every piece of footage she could get on the Alpha from Detroit – Kevin, or something. He'd called her cute, once. She thought she was half in love. Then Stiles had shown up and Derek remembered too late that they were both around the same age and Sarah liked all the same things that he liked.

So Derek had been an idiot, and downloaded some game – and lost his temper a million times because he couldn't get past the starting area, and his Wolf, or Worgen or **_whatever_**, just died all the damn time – and some little shit called him a noob. He wasn't even sure what that meant, but he knew it wasn't a fucking compliment.

According to Laura, Stiles and Sarah spent hours screaming abuse at screens and high fiving each other for no reason while playing, and the game they played most of wasn't the one Derek had tried.

He'd uninstalled it and went back to solitaire in between writing his paper, calling himself all kinds of stupid. He'd have to stop trashing his room too, now that Stiles wasn't going to be the one cleaning it. It was one of his better plans, he had to admit – because he'd managed to get Stiles alone for huge parts of the day. And then he'd been able to share food, which was a big deal for his kind – even though Stiles wasn't aware – Derek knew though, and that was all that mattered.

Normally he'd get up at this time, go for a run, shower, eat – but Stiles was still asleep and Derek wasn't about to move, not unless the house was burning down around his ears.

It was nice, to just lay there, and feel the steady thump of Stiles heart – the warm breath that danced over Derek's chest and warmed him to his very core. This was what he wanted all the time – but he doubted that Stiles, with his gaming and his constant movements and how he spoke and muttered to himself even when he thought he was being silent – Derek didn't think that Stiles would be happy just lying in bed.

And if there was one thing Derek wanted, it was Stiles to be happy.

Preferably with him.

* * *

When Stiles did wake up, it happened in stages. When Derek opened his eyes, he was wide awake in seconds, on his feet before he blinked, but Stiles woke up slowly.

He started moving, eyes closed, stretching and twisting, half pushing Derek away and half pulling him closer, fingers flexing on his chest, and toes curling around Derek's calf.

His lashes flickered, gold peeping from under them, before fluttering shut, he huffed a breath then gave a low whine as he stretched long down the side of Derek's body. He was all arms and legs, long limbs that hadn't quite grown out of that lanky stage. Too young, really, for Derek.

Really, he was no better than Peter.

Stiles lashes flickered open again, this time staying open for longer, before shutting on a lazy blink. He let out a small huff of air, and snuggled his fuzzy head under Derek's chin and groaned.

Derek actually could feel Stiles long lashes brush against his collarbone as he struggled to wake. It took another few seconds for his heartbeat to skip from rested to awake, a few seconds more to start thudding faster, his body tensing.

"Um." He mumbled, pulling away from Derek's body, which Derek didn't like but did nothing to stop.

"Breakfast will be here soon," Derek said, rolling on his side and pretending like he too, had just woken up. "You should go shower."

Stiles had used his shower before, leaving the room with hot steam clouds filled with his scent. Derek had liked that, when he'd walked in. He'd told himself that he was just there to pick up the clothes, not to perv at the boy in his shower. He hadn't looked.

The glass was all steamed up anyway, even if he had looked. Which he **_hadn't_**. Because he wasn't Peter. It wasn't his fault if he'd glanced in that direction – looking for clothes.

"Can you go first?" Stiles asked, curling into a ball under the covers. "I'm too tired to even move." His voice was distorted by the blankets, sounding muffled and sleepy. Too cute, really, for first thing in the day.

Derek swung himself out of bed, unhappy that his plan to use the shower after Stiles, when the air would be thick with him, was thwarted.

* * *

The water was hot on his skin, almost scalding – jets pummelling his body and getting rid of the tension he'd been carrying in his muscles since Stiles decided that climbing him like a tree was a good idea. He'd been able to keep pretty good control, right up to the point where Stiles had started grinding his hips when he scented. Because Derek really didn't have the will power to tell him to stop. Which was pathetic.

Derek braced one hand against the wall, leaning his forehead on the cool marble, and – at last – wrapped his hand around his own cock. He'd been hard when he woke up, but had been half limp until Stiles had started to wake, stretching and mewling – sounds that hit Derek had in the solar plexus.

Letting the water hammer off his back, he stroked and pulled, taking his time. There was no point in rushing – Stiles was probably fast asleep again – and Derek liked the slow build.

He had only just started when he heard the bathroom door open – even over the roar of the water he could hear the heartbeat of Stiles, the padding of his bare feet. If he thought that running the hot tap would result in Derek having a cold blast, he was wrong – the plumbing was all separate.

Apparently though, that wasn't what Stiles had in mind, because almost as soon as he closed the bathroom door, he opened the glass one of the shower. Derek snatched his hand away from his cock, blushing a dark red and praying that the heat from the shower would explain it away.

"Stiles, get out." He snapped, letting his teeth lengthen in a show of dominance.

"Shut it." Stiles muttered. "I'm feeling kinda off." Derek turned his head to see that Stiles was still wearing his black sleep pants, the ones that Derek had picked.

"If you feel ill, go lay down." He said, trying to twist his body so Stiles wouldn't be able to tell that he'd been… busy.

"I was laying down." Stiles muttered, and – **_holy hell_** – put his forehead on Derek's back. "I felt worse then."

"Stiles, a little personal space?" He snapped, as the feeling of being naked with Stiles started to work through his body.

"I shower with people all the time" Stiles shrugged, pulling away from Derek. He could hear the wet sloppy sound of Stiles taking off the wet bottoms and kicking them to the corner of the shower. "Can you pass the bodywash?"

The thing was, as long as Derek had his back to Stiles… he was okay. The smell was killing him, cock so hard it was practically hugging his stomach, but Stiles didn't know – and Derek hadn't even sneaked a look at him. The issue became that Stiles talked. He talked, and he laughed and although Derek's shower was more than big enough for two people, Stiles still managed to bump and knock into him as he washed.

"Then coach was like… Balinski?" Stiles was saying, as he elbowed Derek in the back again. "And I made Scott call me Balinski for a full **_month_**, just so I could try out." He reached out and turned the dial of the shower so that the spray was slightly softer. "I enjoy my skin, dude. I don't want it ripped off my back."

"I like it."

"I don't."

"It's not your shower."

"You aren't the only person in here."

"I **_was_**."

"Oh, snappy Mc Snapperson," Stiles laughed, pushing him. He pushed too hard though, and lost his balance – slipping on the floor despite the textured surface. Derek spun and grabbed him before he hit the hard marble, pulling his wiry body hard against his own. "Fuck!" Stiles gasped, clutching at Derek, before he laughed. "You totally just French dipped me!" He snorted, face screwing up as the water hit his face. "My hero!"

Derek knew Stiles was just joking when he wrapped his arms around Derek's neck and kissed him on the lips. He knew it was supposed to be stupid and playful. Knew it didn't mean a damn thing. Could tell by the way Stiles screwed up his face, the fact that his lips were tightly pressed together.

Didn't stop the reactive hitch in his heartbeat, or the fact that his arms instinctively pulled Stiles closer to his body – or the way he move his head just a little to the side so that the kiss was flush against his mouth.

As soon as he did it though, he tried to pull back, tried to put some space between his body and Stiles, because he was still rock hard, and had acted like a fucking idiot – tried to pull away.

Stiles though, was having none of that. His arms were like a clamp around Derek's neck pulling him back for another kiss, and this time Stiles let out a little, desperate sound that had the instant effect of tightening Derek's body like a fucking bowstring.

He pulled Stiles upright, pushing his back against the cold wall, and deepened the kiss. He tasted like peppercorns and chili, desperate need and frustration, hand gripping at Derek's hair as he whimpered and squirmed, the other snaking between their bodies.

"Oh god." Stiles whined, arching his back as Derek pulled on his bottom lip with his teeth. "Oh god, please!" He stammered, before his hand wrapped around Derek's cock and pulled.

Derek wasn't expecting it, hips slamming forward on a strangled growl as the younger man palmed and pulled. He gripped Stiles head and moved it so he would have better access to the corded muscle at his neck, licking and sucking at the skin there – marking skin with small bruises that wouldn't linger now that he was turned. With every scrape of his teeth, Stiles would keen – an almost whine that was desperate and needy.

"Bite me," He begged, pushing his shoulder up into Derek's mouth. Biting was a normal part of foreplay, bringing out the primal side of their species. It heightened everything, made everything much… **_more_**. It was why they normally didn't have sex outside their own species – humans couldn't withstand the damage, and didn't understand the act.

"God, Derek, please!" Stiles whined, sliding a wet hand to the very base of Derek's cock and then all the way back up, thumb sliding over the slit at the top and causing Derek to growl with need. His teeth lengthened as he lunged – piercing skin and tasting blood on his lips. Almost instantly, Stiles hips bucked – warm strings of semen coating Derek's chest and body before the water washed it away. Stiles continued to grind his hips long after he was spent, and Derek was licking the healing skin on his shoulder. His own cock was throbbing, so close to his own release that the slightest thing was sure to send him over the edge.

Stiles finally stopped bucking, thrusting against Derek's hip and his head resting limply against his chest. "Oh Jesus." He sighed. "I mean, really, fucking Jesus. I'm seeing smells. Stars. Fuck me." He was muttering, voice shallow and ragged. "Holy crap on a stick." He lifted his head to look at Derek, eyes glassy, human – stunning. "I'm kinda into guys." He admitted, which Derek didn't really know what to say to. He already knew that, they'd checked his internet history. He was a regular Sean Cody browser, he followed more than one guy only NSFW Tumblr. He didn't think it was a good idea to mention that though – to bring up the fact that Derek had watched every movie he had watched to see what he liked. "I've never told anyone that."

"Most wolves are bi-sexual." Derek said, not sure what else to say – totally taken aback when Stiles kissed him again. He'd figured it was over and he'd just finished himself off.

"I want to do everything all at once." Stiles said between kissing and nuzzling. He was already half hard, the bonus of the bite.

"Loads of time." Derek managed, proud of the fact he was able to keep his voice half way normal. Only a slight growl. Really.

"I wanna try everything." Stiles said, pulling back, putting distance between them, before he sunk to his knees and looked up at Derek, eyes gold and glorious.

* * *

They ended up eating a cold breakfast – Derek unsure how to respond to Stiles and his chatter about high school and TV shows like nothing had happened, when his whole world had just changed. So he ate and scowled and maybe, when Stiles wasn't looking, he smiled a little.

* * *

**_I wrote you some Smut._**

**_You are welcome._**

**_Worst day ever at work, worst day ever at home, worst day ever in general._**

**_I have an ask box thing on my Tumblr, because I don't really know how to use the site, I may how done something not-insignificant to the rest of the buttons. _**

**_BMWIID is the username thingy._**

**_12635397 - this chapter was from Derek's POV just for you._**


	14. Chapter 14

He'd just sucked Derek Hale off. In the shower. His jaw was aching as he ate and talked, trying desperately to put the whole thing behind him, a reminder he didn't need that he'd had **_Derek Hale's_** cock in his mouth.

Sweet Jesus. He was so utterly dead. Derek was already starting to look pissed – and Stiles just couldn't stop talking, nerves taking over his ability to stop moving his mouth, which ached.

"You should go get dressed." Derek said, cutting over Stiles inane babble about the time he set the kitchen on fire trying to cook his dad breakfast.

"Yeah, right. Sure." Stiles agreed instantly, getting to his feet. "Obviously." He added. Jesus, he was probably blinding Derek with his scrawny paleness. The guy was managing to eat cold egg and still look like a fucking Roman God – what chance did skinny Stiles have? Really?

He bolted to his room, the new one that he shared with Isaac and Erica – or really, just Erica, because Isaac wasn't there.

"Hey." She said, sitting up as he shut the door behind him.

"Hey." He said, feeling strangely exposed in his towel. She wasn't actually saying anything, but she was giving him a pretty knowing look. He blushed.

"Sleep okay?"

"Yeah. After you and Isaac left I pretty much just curled up into a ball and was out of it." She said, stretching. "Peter said I might be a bit washed out for a few days."

"Really?" Stiles asked, opening the doors of his large wardrobe and wondering if he was just allowed to wear whatever he liked. He felt wired, more than awake, bouncy – like he'd forgotten to take his pills or had taken too many.

"Don't wear that shirt with that top." Erica called from the bed. "Red and green make my eyes bleed." As he pulled out some clothes. God, they were all so damn cool looking, like the ideal clothes for him. He put the green t-shirt back and pulled out a black and white zombie pattern on a tee, and held it up to her. "Yeah, that looks better." She said, sitting on the bottom of the bed with the covered wrapped around her like a cocoon. "Do you know what we are supposed to do all day?"

"Nope." Stiles said, grabbing underwear in his free hand. "Although I can't see them letting us run about doing nothing." He said, walking to the bathroom.

He changed quickly, trying not to look at his reflection in the huge mirror over the double sinks. Once he was dressed though, he did take a quick look – there was a fading red welt on his neck – teeth marks that were visible and made his knees feel weak and his cock twitch when he ran his fingers over them. Damn – he was some kind of fucked up if touching a scar was turning him on. With his shirt, though, you could really only see a small pink bump – nothing to suggest that it was a full on **_bite_**.

He tried not think about the shower, how he'd begged – how Derek hadn't said a damn thing, not made a single fucking sound. Then Stiles had gone and come out. Outed himself. "Most wolves are bi-sexual." Derek said, like it wasn't that a big deal, which was cool – you know, that he wasn't going to be made to feel weird – and also sucked. Because it **_was_** a big deal. To Stiles.

Then he'd totally lost his mind, and apparently thought he was a damn porn star or something – dropping to his knees and… dear God though… it was awesome.

Stiles had felt awesome. Stiles mind was playing over all those clips and movies he'd watched, wondering what it would feel like to have a hard cock in his mouth. He'd sometimes sucked on his fingers when he watched them, totally nothing like the feeling of Derek pressing on his tongue and down his throat. Jesus, but it had felt amazing, and when the head of Derek's cock had hit the back of his throat and Stiles had gagged, he tried to swallow like all the guides online had told him that would make it easier. It had felt uncomfortable, but he'd managed it – felt kinda proud about it.

His mouth didn't look swollen, but his jaw ached, and he was sure he could still taste Derek in his mouth. It was the only time he'd made a move, a sound, was when he'd cum. He'd been standing with his hands braced against the shower wall as Stiles mouthed his cock, but then he'd gripped the back of Stiles head and groaned, seconds before he'd filled Stiles mouth. Stiles hadn't been expecting it, and had tried to swallow, but he knew that some of it was dripping out the side of his mouth and he hoped it looked good like on the internet clips and not just gross and stupid.

He brushed his teeth, hand almost forgetfully running over the ridges on his neck until he bucked his hips into the counter that the sinks were set into. Damn – it was like the bite on his neck was directly linked to his groin. He washed his face again, took one last look in the mirror and stepped back into the bedroom, hearing voices as soon as the door opened.

"What the hell?" Jackson was saying, back turned towards the bathroom and facing Erica, who was still wrapped in the covers. He had a tray of food in his hands, and he back of his neck was red.

"Just put it over there." Erica pointed, imperiously, at a small table by the massive fireplace. It was almost the same set-up as Derek's room. He leaned against the doorframe and grinned. Erica could see him, but Jackson still had no idea that he was there.

"Fuck you." Jackson hissed. "What the fuck are you even doing in here?"

"I live here." She said, stretching one long shapely leg out of the cocoon of blankets she had made and flexing her toes. It didn't have the same effect on Stiles as the night before. He grinned. "So do as you are told and put the food on the table." She finished, with a bored look at the other boy.

"I don't have to put up with this kind of shit from you." Jackson snapped, "Just because you're fucking an Other doesn't mean you are special." He said, probably thinking his voice was so sure and calm, but his heart was racing and there was a twinge of uncertainty in his voice that persona Stiles wouldn't have picked up on before.

"Did no one tell you, Jackson?" She purred, crawling out of the bed and towards the boy. The black silk nightdress whispering against her skin as she moved, almost cat like – feet arching delicately with each step.

"I'm not fucking an Other. I **_am_** an Other." She stopped, only inches from Jackson and the tray he was holding. She laughed at his expression, which Stiles couldn't see – and pointed to the table. "When you are ready," she smiles, too sweetly.

"Aren't you the queen bitch?" Isaac's voice said, from the doorway. Stiles turned his head to get a look at the taller boy, who looked… fucked. He was pale, with shadows under his eyes and the jerky movements of someone who didn't get any sleep. He was still wearing his green silk sleeping bottoms – and bright red and swollen was the bite mark on his neck. It was in exactly the same place as Stiles' bite. Which was kinda… nice, actually. At least Stiles wasn't the only one. He grinned at the boy. "Morning."

Jackson, who had put the tray on the table spun around as Stiles spoke, eyes narrowing dangerously at him.

"Morning." Isaac yawned, walking over to Stiles and touching his arm as he went into the bathroom, yawning loudly as he readied the shower. "You sleep?"

"Like a baby." Erica purred.

"Some." Stiles shrugged, aware that Isaac's eyes were fixed on the small pink marks on his own neck. "Eventually."

"What the hell?" Jackson half whined, the noise making Stiles cringe. "Did they turn all three of you? Even **_Stilinski_**?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean," Stiles snapped, temper lighting like a match to paper. "**_Even Stilinski_**?"

"Oooh!" Erica crowed. "Look at you all wolfed out and pissy." She half purred.

"I didn't mean anything." Jackson said, and Stiles could hear the panic in the other boys voice.

"You know what, Jackson, I'm getting seriously pissed off the way you think you are so much better than me." Stiles said, pushing off the door frame where he had been leaning and walking forward. "How Stilinski is always the punch line."

He was stepping forward, temper roaring and bubbling in his blood like lava, fury blinding him until all he could see was Jackson and all he could think of was the times where the blond boy had made his life hell. The teasing, the too hard knocks in Lacrosse, the distaste when he mentioned Stiles name.

His whole body tensed as he leapt at Jackson, nails lengthening and teeth pointed. He was half way through his pounce when something hard and powerful knocked him down, making him yelp and whine and he was punched squarely in the jaw. It felt like he had been hit by a truck, felt his jaw physically break – the crack the loudest he'd ever heard.

His vision was blurred, seeing nothing but red and yellow shapes as he was pinned down. Through his haze and pain he saw a pair of glowing red eyes, and panicked, struggling to get away.

"Do not do that again." A voice that vibrated through his body and hit a primal nerve, he nodded almost instinctively. A pop in his mouth, pain fading fast, made him realise that he was already healing from the break. He could hear a high pitched whine – was aware it was him only when the pressure was taken from around his throat and he was able to breath properly.

Laura got to her feet gracefully and glared at Jackson. "Do not assume that I will be around to protect your smart mouth in the future. Offend him again and it might be your throat on the line." She snapped, before giving Stiles a throwaway glance. "You are going to have to work on your impulse control," The Alpha said with a slight grin. "Well done though, on a full shift so soon."

"Thanks." Stiles said, sitting up and rubbing his jaw, which felt normal again, just a trace of lingering ache, as Laura left the room.

"Erica, once you are dressed, you will come with me."

Stiles and Isaac stood as Peter shaved. He was wearing an elaborate smoking jacket, and reminded Stiles of a Bond villain.

"Why, that was the look I was going for." Peter said, eyes not leaving his reflection. "And, yes, you did say that out loud."

"Damnit!" Stiles hissed, mad at himself.

"Laura mentioned you are having some impulse control." Peter smiled. "Never a bad thing, really – so many wonderful things happen when you simply let go."

"I nearly killed Jackson."

"Wonderful things." Peter smirked, before looking back at his reflection. "Isaac was quite tormented by him, you know. I did offer to kill him."

"I know." Isaac smiled.

"Creepy."

"Please at least **_try_** to keep your thoughts to yourself." Peter sighed, melodramatically.

"I'm trying!" Stiles whined. "I don't want your pervy self knowing what's going on in my head!"

"My pervy self already knows what goes on in your **_shower_**." Peter said, calmly.

"Oh dear God!" Stiles yelled, hands flying to cover his eyes, mortification complete. "Seriously? **_Seriously_**? You just **_had_** to bring that up?"

"Bring what up?" Isaac said, glancing between them both.

"Nothing!" Stiles snapped.

"Oh, poor dear. Have I said something inappropriate?" Peter smirked into the mirror. "Don't worry yourself, Isaac my love, Stiles is just upset that he has very few secrets in a house with Werewolves who have wonderful hearing. I'm sure we gave Derek quite a night of it, ourselves."

"Oh." Isaac said, blushing to the roots of his sandy blond hair.

"Let me just die now." Stiles moaned. "Please? Why am I even here? Isn't like… **_Erica_** your little cupcake or something?"

"I didn't want you to feel left out, with Derek gone this morning."

"Derek's gone?"

"Yes. He's off… doing whatever it is he does when he's not locking himself in his bedroom like a teenager."

"He didn't tell me."

"No." Peter said. "I doubted that he would. He so very rarely discusses anything." He turned his head and gave Stiles an odd look. "How odd that you would catch his eye, with your constant flow of stimulating conversation."

"Oh, piss off," Stiles said, rolling his eyes – which made Peter laugh indulgently.

"Oh, yes, I think he's made a terrible mistake with you. I might just keep you." He reached out his hand and touched Stiles on the cheek.

"You know, you are pretty hands on."

"You have no idea." Isaac muttered, then slapped his hand over his mouth as Stiles snorted with laughter.

"I've changed my mind," Peter said with a smile in his voice. "Apparently you are contagious."

"I'm so sorry." Isaac blushed, as Peter wiped the remaining foam from his face. The older wolf reached forward and gently touched Isaac on the neck, rubbing slightly.

"Never apologise." Peter smiled. "It is a weakness." As he said the word weakness, Isaac's legs almost buckled – he let out a whimper that Stiles had heard before. He'd heard it in the shower – he'd made it – half mad on the feeling of Derek licking the scars on his neck. It took a few moments for him to realise that Peter was intentionally rubbing his palm over the bite that he'd seen on Isaac's neck.

"What's with that?" He asked, trying not to notice how Isaac was already hard and pressing against the cream coloured chino trousers.

"Oh, it's nothing really, a little love bite." Peter smiled, holding out his hand to Stiles. Unthinking, Stiles let him lead his touch to Isaac's neck, where he could feel the slight raised bumps of skin that matched his own. Isaac let out a breath, moving his head to one side.

"Okay," Stiles agreed, pulling his hand away. "I love you and everything, dude, but um… this is just weird."

"I assume you've got one?" Peter smiled, patting Isaac on cheek and walking towards his wardrobe.

"You don't seriously expect me to tell you?"

Peter laughed again. "You are too much fun; I might just steal you after all."

**_Sorry this is a day late. Have been having a really bad couple of days, but at least I managed to get a chapter out! :)_**

**_Hope you enjoy it, I'm off out to a fund-raiser quiz night - raising money for a local hospice._**

**_let me know what you think - I really enjoyed writing Peter in this!_**

**_Thanks and love you all very much!_**


	15. Chapter 15

The thing was… once you got past Peter and his fondness for touching – he was actually a pretty okay guy. He talked, told them about his younger days, when the Hale pack was much larger.

"Of course, I was outrageous as a teen – you can't possibly imagine what they went through." He grinned, kissing the top of Stiles head as he walked past. "I spent the whole new moon chained to the floor."

Stiles was sitting on the small, hard lounger by the fire – Isaac almost sitting on his lap they were so close – and idly running his fingers through the boys soft curls. He wondered if it was… odd… how nice he found it. Isaac was almost purring, and Peter was so indulgent of anything they wanted, that Stiles had relaxed to a point where he didn't mind the petting.

"Why?" Isaac asked, turning his head so he could get a better look at Peter who was pouring himself a drink from the large cabinet filled with more bottles than a bar. He didn't add ice.

"Oh, I was young, and impulsive and rather… lustful." He said, taking a sip as he walked towards the fireplace. "My appetites were indulged for the most part, of course." He said, glancing at Isaac with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "But even then there must be a line." Stiles wondered just how… indulged… Peter had been. He wondered if they would be treated the same way.

"How indulged?" He asked, curiosity taking over. Peter smiled and ran his eyes over them both slowly.

"Oh, I had a great many partners." He said, eyes lingering on Isaac. "Humans, mostly." He noted with a gleam. "Not quite so satisfying as an Other – hardly any stamina – but fun, in their way."

"They just gave you people to have sex with?"

"Yes." Peter said on a shrug. "Of course." He turned and sat on the high backed chair and looked at them both with amused expressions. "Willing partners, of course." He smiled. "No need to be so shocked – I wasn't terrorising virgins."

Stiles was trying to fight his own urges – the feel of Isaac pressed up against him, and all the talk of sex, was having an effect on his body. It was unlikely that Isaac wasn't aware that Stiles was quickly becoming hard, given the fact that he was pressed right up into him.

"I'm sure you understand," Peter said, giving him a knowing look. "How it can be difficult to control ones physical desires."

"It's not like I can help it." Stiles said, fingers still laced in Isaacs hair. He pulled back, trying to get some space between their bodies.

"No. You'll try, at first, and then you'll snap." Peter smiled. "Derek should have spoken to you about this. I discussed it with Isaac last night." He paused. "During his lucid spells."

"I was okay last night." Stiles said, defensively.

"**_Please_**." Peter said, holding up a hand. "You would have quite happily spent the entire night impaled on my nephew, if he'd been able to see past his own morals."

Stiles felt the colour drain from his face before flooding back, as he choked on his own breath. "You did not just say that!" He squeaked. "You can't just **_say_** that!" Face flaming, he closed his eyes tightly shut, praying that Peter hadn't just said the words that had come out of his mouth.

"Oh, dear lord, you are just as bad as he is." Peter laughed. "How delightful. You'll make such a **_wonderful_** pair, with your blushes and prudish notions."

"You are not saying these things." Stiles said, covering his eyes with his hands. "Nope." He could feel Isaac laughing, tremors shaking his body as he tried to control them. "Shut up, dude!" Stiles ground out. "I'm not the one who spent the night getting his ass-"

He didn't get any further, because Isaac literally threw him across the room, his back connecting painfully with the solid wood of the bed. Fury and fear mixed in equal parts took over, he could feel his body change and his teeth lengthen even as he watched Isaac leap off the small couch at him. Their bodies connected mid-air, but Isaac had the advantage of height and motion, slamming Stiles back into the floor. He could feel the taller boys nails dig into his skin, see the glowing gold of his eyes – mind franticly spiralling out of control as he fought back.

They were rolling on the floor when Stiles saw an opportunity. He pushed Isaac hard, almost flipping the sandy blond completely and straddled his hips – mouth closing over the teeth marks he had noticed that morning.

Almost instantly Isaac went limp, whimpering and begging as Stiles threatened to bite down. Running his tongue over the slight ridges, he felt Isaac buck under him – a high pitched whine and a moan filling his ears. He felt Isaac's hand move up – not sure what he was doing until the taller boy had his hand against the similar mark on Stiles neck. For a moment Stiles was paralyzed, unable to move at all as Isaac gently touched the bite on his neck.

When it happened, it happened all at once. One moment Stiles was almost in control, and the next he was totally lost to the fire in his blood, mouth pressed hard against Isaac's as their tongues danced together, hands pushing and pulling at clothes franticly, seeking skin.

When his hands finally found what he was looking for, pushing up the torso of the taller boy, Stiles mind tripped, halting and stuttering at the edges of his consciousness. This wasn't what he wanted, what he **_needed_** – skin wasn't stretched tight over muscle, shoulders weren't as broad, there was a distinct lack of stubble rubbing against his chin. He pulled back slightly, confused and unsure – something was wrong, he didn't smell right – an instant before he was lifted bodily off Isaac by strong hands.

He could hear arguing, heated words and a pitiful whine that could have come from him, he wasn't sure, mind cloudy. Something smelled good though – so good, and instinctively he reached out, hands connecting with a solid warmth that made him growl with need. His hands were fisted in clothes as he tried to pull himself closer toward the heat, only to find himself pushed back with a growl, voices still too loud around him.

Stiles didn't want to be pushed back, stepping forward and managing to get his face pressed right into the warm crook of a neck, inhaling deeply. Perfect. This was what he wanted – what he needed.

"Bite me, and I'll kill you." A low voice said as Stiles felt his teeth scrape over skin, every fibre in his body begging to sink his teeth into the hard muscle. He gripped harder with his hands, desperately trying to get closer to the warmth – never close enough, until his back was against the hard surface of a wall and he was pushed hard – his entire body pressed against another, hands on his body – on his skin, burning like a brand. "You need to calm down." A voice was saying, but Stiles could hear the basic need – a desire – in the tone, that pushed everything out his mind but the feral ache of his body.

"Please." He moaned, hips bucking as a rough hand ran over his ribcage, burning the skin. "Oh, god, please!"

"I don't know what you want." The words were tight, tense – spoken against his neck and breathed into his skin, causing Stiles to buck again. His whole body felt like it was about to burst – pressure and pleasure almost too much for him to take in.

"Please!" He called, arching his back and begging, mindlessly gripping at the broad shoulders.

"I don't…" he heard, before a raggedly growled, "Fuck it."

For an instant, all pressure was removed, the body pulling back and Stiles unexpectedly let out a howl of frustration, trying to focus his mind on what was happening.

He was in Derek's room, which was… strange – had he not been with Peter? But Derek was there, and he was pulling off his shirt, eyes fixed on Stiles – bright blue and glowing. As soon as his shirt was off, Derek pushed back against Stiles – who was trying desperately to regain his wits, almost able to think straight until Derek forcibly pulled his shirt off, strong arms hauling the black and white zombie tee over his head and covering Stiles skin with his own.

Derek nipped at the skin on Stiles neck, each tiny bite hotwiring right to Stiles throbbing cock, desperate moans and gasps escaping his lips as Derek pushed him hard against the wall. In the shower, Derek had been so quiet, passive even, Stiles remembered hazily – not now. Now he was pushing and growling, hands everywhere all at once. Stiles fumbled with the buckle of Derek's belt, unable to think enough to actually get it off as the bites on his neck caused him to spasm involuntarily.

He tugged at the leather, Derek pulling back just enough to help him, pulling the belt off in an easy movement that caused the muscles in his shoulders to bunch and flex. He popped a few buttons before slamming Stiles back against the wall.

"Calm down." He said, hand cupping the back of Stiles head almost gently. "Calm."

Stiles let Derek hold him still, neither of them moving, as he fought hard to regain his composure. Derek was leaning forward, his head tucked into the sides of Stiles neck, breath warm and comforting.

"I was with Peter." He mumbled, as his thoughts became clearer. "And Isaac attacked me."

"Okay."

"And then I got him by the neck…" Stiles hand came up to the marks on his own skin, faded now so that he could hardly feel anything. "And he touched me there and… god." He whined.

"It's fading." Derek muttered. "He won't be able to do it again. Peter shouldn't have let him touch you."

"What is it?"

"Just a bite." Derek said, but his voice was strained.

"What is it **_really_**?"

"A bite." Hot breath over his skin made Stiles shiver. "But… if you bite during – when you're... intimate – it acts like a conditioned response."

"Pavlovian?"

"We don't like that expression." Derek said, voice tight. "But… yes. Other wolves know what it is and don't touch a mark – or make their own. Isaac shouldn't have touched it."

"Are you pissed at me?" Stiles asked, hearing the anger in Derek's tone and not sure what to do. He was coming down off one hell of a high, starting to feel awkward and wrong about everything that had, only a few moments ago, been perfect.

"No." Derek said, and then after a few moments of silence, "How do you feel now?"

"Stupid." He managed, as Derek pulled away, cold air hitting his body as the wolf took a few steps back. "Really fucking stupid."

* * *

Yeah, stupid was a good way of putting it, because all he wanted to do was rub his face all over Derek Hale, and the man in question was picking up his shirt – thrown on the floor only a few minutes ago. If he put it back on, Stiles might actually cry – he was so frustrated.

It was going to be like the shower all over again, Stiles thought shamefully. He needed to stop dry humping the man, he obviously wasn't interested. He felt tears prick at his eyes unwanted, blinking fast to try and get rid of them. He wanted everything, and felt like a child, unable to put his needs into words – frustration and tension bubbling up in his body which felt too small to cope with the feelings running through him.

He sunk to the floor, hands shaking and body shivering, trying to calm himself. It wasn't a panic attack – he could still breathe – but he was unable to cope with the emotions buzzing through his body. Derek stood, frozen in place as Stiles brushed hot tears away with shaking hands, desperately wishing he was alone.

"I'm gonna go back to my room." He said, voice tight. "I don't mean to be like this."

"It's not your fault." Derek said, shirt in his hand, staring at him like he had no idea what to do. "It's normal." He said, in what Stiles guessed was supposed to be a comforting tone.

"I don't understand." He said. "Isaac isn't like this. Erica is fine."

"Erica isn't even half way through the change yet." Derek said, walking forward and holding out his hand to Stiles. "And Isaac has help."

Stiles let himself be pulled to his feet, stumbling slightly as he tried to regain balance. "What do you mean, he has help?" He asked, as Derek pushed him in the direction of the large bed. "What help? Can I get help?" He asked, climbing on the mattress and sitting in the middle of the bed as Derek perched on the edge. "How is it fair that Isaac is getting help?"

"He's having sex with Peter." Derek said, voice tight and flat – there was no emotion there at all. "It's a basic enough anchor to help him keep control."

"I have to have sex with Peter?" Stiles asked, unsure of what he disliked more – the idea of having sex with Peter, or the fact that Derek was okay with that.

"No." Derek snapped, temper showing in his voice and in the way his head snapped around. "You are not having sex with Peter." He glared. "Ever."

"So I get to walk about like this," He waved a hand over his face, probably swollen from his crying fit, "For a year?"

"No." Derek said, giving him an odd look. "I thought I'd made it clear."

Stiles stared at him, not blinking. "Dude, you haven't explained a damn **_thing_**. Peter tells me more than you do, and he's the ultimate creepy uncle."

"Why did you go with Peter anyway?" Derek said, and Stiles was aware he was changing the conversation. Damn, he'd probably pissed him off by talking shit about his uncle. He really needed to keep his mouth under control.

"Laura took Erica, and Peter didn't want me to be left out when you were gone, so he told me to go with him."

"Why didn't you go find Sarah?"

Stiles looked at Derek blankly. "Oh, I guess I didn't think. I just went with Peter because he asked me to."

"Try not to get into the habit of doing things just because Peter asks." Derek muttered. "He'll take advantage of that."

"You left me!" Stiles complained. "Apparently Isaac is getting told all this secret wolf stuff between bouts of fantastic Other sex, and I'm stuck not knowing a damn thing." He said, and was sure that he saw the back of Derek's neck turn red.

Aww hell, he'd probably gone and pissed him off again.

* * *

**_I really love writing Peter, I know in the show he's actually not a cool guy, what with killing Laura and that - but I just love writing him! He's so sassy and creepy and I love him._**

**_I hope everyone had a good weekend, I can't believe that it's already Monday! I really should do something slightly more productive than writing fanfic, but it's cold outside and warm in here and I'm all for some sexy Sterek times._**

**_More to follow ;)_**


	16. Chapter 16

"Where did you go?" Stiles asked, and Derek was trying not to let him see that he was hard, blushing and unsure.

"I just went out." He said, gruffly, running a hand over his face to try to calm himself down.

* * *

Derek had thrown on some clothes and left the house almost as soon as Stiles went back to his room. He was still shaking when he got into the car, his sleek black Camaro that was well maintained. Laura liked cars, spent her time when she wasn't busy with her Alpha duties in the garage. He had a suspicion that she might try to get Erica interested – because Sarah didn't give too craps about anything that wasn't related to her computer games, and Laura would never admit to needing some female company for a change.

He fired up the engine and pulled out of the large garage, heading down to the mostly unused road that lead away from the house. Derek didn't often leave the house, didn't like it – preferred the solitude of his room, his own company.

However, sometimes he needed things that he didn't want delivered to the house. No one at his school knew he was Other, and he did the vast majority of his course work via emails – but occasionally he needed to put in some face time with his advisor, who probably knew he was Other but politely never mentioned it. Derek really hated the simpering and preferential treatment. It set his teeth on edge and made him snappy, which is what people expected of them, really.

Today though, he just needed to get out of the house, away from Stiles, before he did something that he would regret, or worse, something that Stiles would never forgive him for.

The shower had been a prime example. Derek should have left as soon as Stiles walked in, should have turned and left – but he was stupid and weak and couldn't have moved if the house was on fire.

He'd bitten him, **_Jesus_**, when he promised himself that he wouldn't do anything – marked him – and Stiles was so near the edge when he'd done it that he'd cum. Derek gripped the steering wheel hard as the car swerved on the road. Derek hadn't even needed to touch him. God, he'd been **_desperate_** to touch him.

Then the boy had… he'd… Derek had to pull over, he was going to end up crashing the car and then Laura would actually skin him alive. He remembered the way Stiles had blushed, told him he was 'in to guys' and Derek hadn't known how to say, 'me too' so he'd mumbled something – probably stupidly inadequate – and then Stiles had… holy hell, he'd got on his knees. Derek sat in the parked car and leaned his head back against the seat, trying to calm his heart rate. At the time he'd been so overwhelmed he'd not even been able to move at all, and then finally, when he was able to participate he'd been worried that he'd hurt Stiles, who probably had never done this before. Which meant that Derek had been his **_first_**.

That thought had been enough to tip him right over the edge, enough to make his knees weak and his will power to desert him. He'd grabbed the back of Stiles head and bucked until Stiles mouth was dripping cum, running down his chin. Damn, but Derek had almost gotten hard again just looking at that, the way Stiles eyelashes were flickering, the way his pink tongue had licked his lips, the self-satisfied smile of someone who'd just given the best head of Derek's life.

His cock was throbbing, pushing almost painfully against the fly of his jeans. He pushed the heel of his hand into his groin, and started the car – he had things to do, and jerking off in the car wasn't one of them.

* * *

The patrol car was in the neat drive when Derek pulled up on the street. He'd been there before – once – when he'd been half mad and desperate for something he couldn't even name back then. Peter had found him, stalking the perimeter of the house like a caged animal. They hadn't told anyone, Peter just bundling him up in the back of his tiny sports car and speeding off, making dire warnings about what Laura would do if she found him stalking a human child.

He walked up to the door, breathing deeply and trying not to think about what was going to be a very difficult conversation – Laura's punishment for moving up her carefully planned schedule.

He knocked twice on the door and stood awkwardly – he had a list of things he was supposed to say. He was trying desperately to remember what they were.

The door was pulled open, and John Stilinski, unchanged in all the years since Derek had seen him last, stared at him. "You're the Hale boy." He said, opening the door wider to let Derek in. "I've been expecting you."

He led Derek through to the living room, small and slightly cramped – nothing like the living space Derek was used to. He could smell Stiles, even though he wasn't around, permeating the very walls.

"Mr Stilinski." Derek nodded, holding out his hand, which the older man shook firmly. "Laura sent me to advise you that Stiles accepted the bite, and is transitioning well."

The sheriff sat down hard on the stuffed chair, face pale and drawn. "I thought… I knew…" He ran a hand over his face and sighed. "I thought it would take longer." He said. "I was told there was no rush."

"He agreed of his own free will." Derek said, keeping his voice flat. "Once the situation was explained to him. He was turned with two others, and is not alone."

"The Hale pack hasn't turned a single person since before the attack." The Sheriff said, confusion in his tone. "**_Never_** three kids at the same time."

"They were chosen specifically." Derek added. "As companions." He sure as **_hell_** wasn't going into more detail.

"I don't understand why you were so **_desperate_** for my boy." John said, giving him a piercing look. "My wife was dying and no one offered to save her with a bite. You almost killed him once." He continued. "Is this your way of trying to fix that?"

"In a way." Derek answered. It was a good enough reason as any and he was not willing to go into too much detail. Humans never understood anyway. "He will never become ill like your wife – he is adjusting well."

"I worked with your family once – a long time ago. I remember what it was like. The… **_needs_**… of the family."

Derek inwardly cursed. He'd forgotten that Stiles father had once been chosen, it had been years before Derek was born. Peter would have been a younger boy, and from what he'd heard, he was a nightmare.

"We've not had any issues." Derek said, thankful that Stiles father wasn't Other, because he knew he was covered in Stiles scent after that shower. Which he should not be thinking of in front of the boys' **_father_**.

"When will he get to come home?"

**_Never_**. That was what Derek wanted to say. It was very unlikely that the boy would ever leave the Hale house now – he'd find it very difficult to be parted from the pack. "About a year." Was what he actually said, trying not to see the disappointment in the older man's face. "Perhaps longer, depending on his control."

"Can you take some of his things with him?"

"It's best not to." Derek rushed, before he was able to think. He coughed and continued in a calmer way, "It's one of the reasons we avoid personal belongings with the chosen – thinking of home can cause… complications." Mainly, the desire to go home, which was something Stiles had managed so far to avoid. Derek didn't want him thinking about leaving. Not ever. "I should go." He said, bluntly. "We thought it best if you were advised."

He was standing on the door step when he finally got the nerve to mention his actual reason for coming. "I want you to know that I'll take good care of him." He said, voice not as calm as he would have liked. "He is important to me, to the pack."

"They said as much, when you were a boy." Stiles father said, before shutting the door.

* * *

Derek had arrived back at the house later than he had thought, picking up a few things from a small, specialist store. It was run for Others, and catered to them exclusively. No one looked at him as he paid for his purchases, and he tried to ignore the more… **_exotic_** items for sale. Peter had advised it would be a good idea to be prepared, and Derek was quickly becoming aware that his will power was not as strong as he would have liked.

But when he'd gotten through the doors, he could hear the snarling of a fight under-way – the crash of furniture and as he hit the corridor running – a whimper of total submission and need.

He threw the door open, knowing fine well that Peter would simply let the two boys 'let it out of their system' which was not going to happen. Not with Stiles.

Stiles was actually trying to fight off whatever was running through his blood, he'd already pushed himself half off Isaac by the time Derek lifted him bodily off the other boy. He was furious, mad with jealousy that Peter had even let this other boy near his… near Stiles, when Stiles lost what control he was holding.

Derek half dragged him through to his own room, and tried desperately not to let go of his own control. Stiles started to beg, and Derek had no idea what he was supposed to do – what the boy wanted. Oh, he knew what **_he_** wanted to do to, but Stiles was completely different and confusing. Then he'd tugged at Derek's belt and the wolf in Derek roared to life. He was popping out the buttons on his jeans and a few seconds away from turning Stiles around, face to the wall, when he managed to gain control.

Now Stiles was sitting on the bed, asking him if he was supposed to have sex with Peter, and Derek was aware of the small black bag that was sitting on the table.

* * *

"I mean… does it have to be Peter?" Stiles asked, suddenly. "Because although he's not as super creepy as you think at first, he's still seriously pervy." He was saying. "And then there is the whole Isaac thing."

"What Isaac thing?" Derek asked, dragging his mind away from his thoughts and into what was happening now.

"Well, I think he'd get a little pissed, cause he's really into Peter, you know? Like… **_really_** into Peter, which is okay, but… maybe he'd be up for sharing?"

"You aren't going to have sex with Peter." Derek said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. Seriously? Peter?

"Well I can't go around like this." Stiles said, probably waving his hands about again. "And it totally sucks that Isaac gets help and I don't."

Derek turned and faced Stiles, who was actually pouting, and managed to keep his voice relatively calm. "Okay. Come here." He said resting his back against the foot of the bed-frame and holding out his hand – which didn't shake.

"Are you going to hit me?" He asked, the smile on his face showing it was meant as a joke, but there was a slight tremor in his voice that made Derek feel a little ill.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He said, pulling on the boys hand until he was moving forward. "Sit." He said, once he'd gotten them into the position he wanted, Stiles with his back pressed against Derek's chest, sitting between his legs. Stiles heart was racing, he seemed unwilling to lean back into Derek – which was frustrating. He put one hand on Stiles shoulder and wrapped the other under his arm, palm open over his heart. "Breathe in." He said, as Stiles heart raced and tripped.

"I am breathing."

"No. Breathe in." Derek said, taking a deep breath himself, "Then breathe out."

"I think you have pretty much summed up how people have been breathing for... oh... millions of years." Stiles quipped, and Derek resisted the urge to smack him on the back of the head.

"I thought you wanted help."

"I do!"

"Then listen." Derek said, pulling Stiles close. The younger boy was pressed up against his chest, the feel of his skin warm and comforting. He smelled amazing, Derek fighting the urge to push his head into the crook of his neck and inhale. "Breathe in."

It took a few minutes, but finally Stiles managed to get his breathing to the same speed as Derek's – automatically slowing his heart rate. "If you can control your breathing you'll be able to control your heart rate." Derek said, trying to keep his voice relaxed. Stiles head was tipped back, leaning on his shoulder, comforting and calm. "If your heart starts going into overdrive you'll end up like you did with Isaac."

"Okay." Stiles said, and under his palm Derek felt his heart beat starting to pitch up again.

"Breathe." He said, but the younger boys heart was racing again. "What happened?"

"Nothing." Stiles mumbled, trying to sit up – pull away. The hand on his chest though, was keeping him pinned in place. "Can you hear that?"

Yes, he could. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear it, but he was focusing on Stiles, and not what was happening down the hallway. "You don't have to listen." Derek sighed. "Just focus on what is going on in this room and it'll fade to background noise."

"Dude, what is going on in this room isn't half as interesting as what's going on in that room." Stiles managed. Derek hadn't expected the hearing to kick in so fast - obviously Stiles was taking to the bite better than expected, if he could already hear Peter and Isaac down the hall.

"Just focus."

"On what?" Stiles groaned, leaning back heavily. "That shouldn't be so fucking hot." He whined, squirming. Derek could see that Stiles was already hard – which was making his squirming... **_uncomfortable_**for Derek. In a good way. Which was **_bad_**.

"Breathe," Derek said, voice not as calm as he would have liked.

"I am!" Stiles said, sucking in a deep breath, which stuttered when Derek flexed his hand on his shoulder.

"Try harder." Derek said, as Stiles did try to keep his breathing relaxed. After a few moments, he got it. Derek flexed his hand, the one over Stiles heart, and the boy stuttered on a breath.

"You're cheating." He said, but he was smiling, still leaning against Derek, and didn't sound pissed.

"I'm testing your calm." Derek said, hoping that he sounded genuine. "You should be able to control your breathing at all times."

"This is a **_test_**?" Stiles said, twisting his head around so that he could stare at Derek. "You should have told me it was a test. I'm great at tests. I'm the best test-sitter in school. I'm amazing." He added. "Seriously, ask anyone. I pass **_everything_**."

Almost as soon as he said, it, Stiles heart dropped to a much slower pace, breathing easy and relaxed. Derek flexed his hand on the boys shoulder and was rewarded with nothing, no hitch in breath or startled heart beat.

Which was good. It was what Derek wanted. For Stiles to be able to control himself better. _**Right?**_

* * *

**_ Holy Hell in a handbasket, today was hard going at work. Thank goodness I get to come home and write some Sterek!_**

**_Thanks for all the great reviews and HI to everyone - I hope you liked this chapter. _**

**_I like writing from Derek's POV but I am more of a Stiles girl and may not show Derek's side for while now, so make the most of it ;)_**

**_And so now I am away to listen to some music and play some computer games and try not to think about all the work I had to take home because I didn't manage to finish it today!_**

**_YAY!_**


	17. Chapter 17

Derek's hand was pressing on Stiles shoulder and the other over his heart – which normally would have been enough to set Stiles over the edge, but the fact that he could actually hear the needy whimpering of Isaac from down the hall was starting to get to him.

"Breathe." Derek was saying, and Stiles resisted the urge to snap at him, because he was breathing, and his heart was beating at a steady pace. The dude was cheating too – calling it a test then waiting for nearly a whole half an hour before talking again. How was that even fair?

Every now and then Derek would learn forward and sniff the inside of his neck, which Stiles thought was seriously unfair – because it shattered his concentration and made breathing difficult. Made thinking difficult. Cheater.

He was trying to block out the sound of Isaac and Peter, who were obviously having a great time in their room – judging by the sounds at least. He squirmed again, trying to find some way to lessen the pressure in his groin.

The hand that was pressed over his heart flexed, sliding down his ribs to feel the movement of his breath, which **_obviously_** hitched. Down the hall Stiles could make out sounds he just couldn't ignore – a satisfied groan and hiss of breath that knocked his concentration.

But what made it worse was Derek. Derek and his moving hands, that were like brands on his skin – burning and searing. One hand placed on the side of his neck, possibly to feel his heartbeat through the thick vein there – and the other moving over his diaphragm. Stiles closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on anything but the feel of Derek. This was the worst test ever. He was going to fail.

"How long is this test going to last?" He asked, trying to keep his breathing, and his voice, under control.

"Until you can control yourself under pressure." Derek said, and his breath was hot against Stiles neck. It seemed like Derek paused, hesitated for a moment – before his hand slid lower down, fingers on the thin line of hair that started below Stiles naval and went further. He sucked in a breath, filling his lungs with much needed oxygen and slowly let it out on a hiss.

"Cheater."

"Pressure." Derek clarified, starting to move back up. Stiles grabbed his hand, stopping him from getting much further.

"I'm good with pressure." He said, trying to sound calm. "I do very well under pressure. I once wrote a paper on the entire history of North America in under an hour, with only general knowledge. I got an A." He added.

Derek seemed to pause, his whole body tense, then he nodded – letting his hand dip lower. His fingertips were touching the waistband of Stiles jeans, not quite going low enough for Stiles to think the older wolf was aware of just how much pressure Stiles was under. He stuttered on a breath, but managed to keep his cool.

Until Derek moved his hand down over the fly of his jeans.

* * *

Stiles bucked up, breath a long hiss – heart starting to race. Derek seemed to realise that he'd gone too far, and tried to move his hand away, but Stiles had a death grip on his arm and no intention of letting go.

"Are you okay?" Derek asked, voice… concerned? Stressed?

"Yeah." He managed. "I'm fine. Good. Great." His body obviously had no intention of calming down now though – because he was leaning back against Derek Hale, sitting between Derek Hales legs. "Okay. Good." Stiles said, leaning back more into the broader chest of the wolf. "Great." He added, in a shaky voice, as he pushed Derek's hand further down, before letting go. "Sorry." He said. "Sorry. Not going to use you to jack off. Again. Bad Stiles."

"It's okay." Derek said, which made Stiles feel even worse. Derek was just trying to help – if you could class unthinkingly being the biggest cocktease in the world 'helping' – and Stiles was acting like a sex crazed teenager. Which he **_was_**.

"No, it's not okay. I'm sorry. I get that you are trying to help. I do. I just think that you might not be aware I'm about… oh, let's say about 5 seconds away from begging." He let out a strangled breath. "**_Really_** begging."

"It's okay." Derek repeated.

"No it's really not." Stiles blushed. "Cause I'm not half off my face this time and I feel really stupid. I need a shower." He said, pulling away from Derek and scrambling off the bed. "I need a really **_cold_** shower."

* * *

"Stiles!" Sarah yelled, bounding over to him and wrapping her arms around him enthusiastically. "Dude! I thought you had abandoned me forever."

"Well, I've not been thinking too great for a couple days." He admitted, "Sorry."

Sarah was grinning though, sniffing at his clothes and generally being super friendly. "I can't believe you're actually Other now!" She grinned. "This is going to be awesome! The things we can get up to-" She started then glared over Stiles shoulder. "Really, Derek? **_Really_**?" She fumed, letting Stiles go and standing with her hands on her hips. Stiles spun around to see Derek walking into the games room with a book in his hand.

"Laura wanted someone here in case." He shrugged, sitting on the overstuffed leather couch. "Take it up with her."

"I don't need a babysitter!" She snapped.

"Not for you." Derek said, glancing at Stiles. "He's already attacked Jackson and Isaac."

"Isaac attacked me!" Stiles argued. "And Jacksons a dick."

Sarah snorted a laugh and then smirked. "Did you see me in the forest?" She asked, dragging him over to the sofa where she pushed him down and sat beside him. The was squished up between both of the Hales, and neither one seemed to mind.

"When?" Stiles asked, "I've not been out the house since I got here."

"When you got bitten, you idiot." She said, punching his arm. "I was there. You're a pretty fast runner for a human."

"I've had practice." He grimaced. "You were there?"

"Yup." She confirmed, handing him a controller. "Mario Kart?"

"Sure."

* * *

Derek wasn't reading his book. It was sitting on the arm rest of the couch, and he was watching them play. Or argue. Both, maybe.

"You throw another fucking shell at me, Stiles, I'll actually rip your arm off."

"Someone is a sore loser!" He shot back, grinning. "If you want to play something easier…"

She punched him on the arm, the force pushing him hard into Derek who laughed. "Careful Princess," Stiles said, rubbing his arm. "I'm a wild beast." He made what he hoped was a fierce face, only to have both Sarah and Derek laugh.

It was nice though – to have Derek with his arm on the back of the couch, almost but not quite around his shoulders, and Sarah pushing and elbowing him almost constantly trying to ruin his concentration on the game.

"Why don't you play, Derek?" Stiles asked, twisting his head and pointing to the other controller. "You can play 3."

"Derek can't play video games." Sarah scoffed. "He's far too **_mature_**."

"They are for kids." Derek agreed, ignoring the fact that Sarah was obviously taking the piss out of him.

"Surgeons that play computer games have faster reaction times that those who don't." Stiles recited. "They improve co-ordination, memory and studies have shown that they can help reduce male pattern baldness." He said, glancing up at Derek's hair. "In case you start thinning."

"I'm not losing my hair." Derek snapped, hand flying to his head as though to reassure himself. "And do you really expect me to believe that?"

"Well, not about the baldness," Stiles shrugged, "You'll need to try Regain for that, old man, but everything else is true."

Sarah was watching the conversation with a gleeful expression on her face, before her eyes zoomed in on Derek's hair. "I think you might have a point." She agreed. "It **_does_**look thinner than it did before."

"Shut up, both of you." Derek snapped, picking up the controller and glaring. "How do you start this thing?"

* * *

Derek sucked balls at computer games, it turned out. He was terrible at Magica, Couldn't shoot worth a damn, got pissed when things killed him in Dead Space and ended up spinning in a circle at anything where he was supposed to drive. Even his **_dad_** was better at games than Derek was.

"Seriously, how did you manage to die?" Stiles asked, looking at the screen. "Did you just shoot **_yourself_** in the face?"

"Shut up, Stiles." He groused, eyebrows low as he glared at them both. He was hunched forward, trying to move his body in the direction he wanted to go in game.

"Use the controller!" Stiles grinned, grabbing his hands and putting Derek's fingers over the right keys. "Left. Right. Shoot."

"I know that." Derek snapped, but he didn't pull away.

"Right, forward." Stiles said, pushing down on Derek's fingers to make his avatar move. "Duck. Shoot." He grinned as Derek's first kill registered on the screen. "Awwww yeah!" He laughed, nudging the older wolf as Sarah cheered. "See? Simple."

Stiles tossed his own controller down and moved closer to Derek, who let him curl right up against him. "Right. Okay." Stiles said. "Let me teach you my kung foo."

* * *

Four hours later, Derek was still pretty bad, but at least he wasn't impossible. They weren't going to be winning any Tournaments with him on their team, but they weren't getting laughed at any more. Much.

It was dark when Gibson opened the door. Stiles didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. The man had a… distinctive heartbeat.

"Dinner is being served." He said, in his polite voice. "Miss Laura has requested that all attend."

"Do I need to get changed?" Stiles asked, once Gibson left the room.

"Why?" Sarah scoffed. "It's only dinner."

"Well, don't you like… get dressed up or something?" He asked, looking at Derek for reassurance. "I've not had dinner with Laura before. I only ever eat with you."

"It's only family." Sarah scoffed, getting to her feet. "No big deal."

Turned out though, that it was a big deal because as they walked towards the dining room, Stiles started to feel… off. "What's that smell?" He asked, nudging Sarah in the ribs.

"An Alpha." Derek replied for her. "Go to your room, Sarah, and get changed into something formal. You too, Stiles." He said, frowning. "This isn't normal."

* * *

"What an unexpected delight, Kevin, for you and your pack to drop by." Laura was saying. Standing beside her was Abigail, who was smiling so politely that Stiles half expected her to pull out a knife and kill them all. No one ever looked so welcoming in real life. Something was off.

Derek had a hold of his arm, holding Stiles slightly back from the rest of the room – keeping his body between Stiles and the new arrivals.

Kevin – the Kevin that Sarah talked about – was built like a tank. Much larger than Derek, almost twice his size. With sandy blond hair cut short and severe, he looked utterly terrifying. Stiles glanced over at Isaac, who was wearing a suit well-tailored and cut just perfectly. Stiles had found his right at the back of the wardrobe. It looked great, but felt like funeral clothes. Everyone was dressed formally – Erica in a bright red dress with a plunging neckline that had the full attention of the three new males in the room, each only slightly smaller than Kevin the Alpha.

"I see you have some new blood." He said, glancing over Isaac and Stiles with a disapproving look. His voice was deep, dangerous.

"Yes, we have been blessed this year." Laura smiled. "Isaac," She said, waving a hand in his direction "And Stiles." She didn't even look at him before turning to the blond girl at her side. "And of course, Erica." She said, with a smile. "All transitioning well."

"We have not offered the bite in years." Kevin said, glancing about himself with an air of superiority. "**_We_** have been able to breed successfully."

Behind him, Stiles felt Sarah enter the room. She was wearing a simple but well cut dress that made her look older than she was. "Ah, here she is." Kevin smiled as she walked to stand by Abigail. "Radiant as always." Sarah blushed and smiled, eyes glowing – but Stiles could tell that Laura wasn't happy, for all her smiles and nods.

"We normally allow the children to sit at the table." She said, voice pleasant. "Although not when guests arrive. Sarah and Stiles will take their meals in their rooms, Gibson."

Stiles felt the temperature in the room drop remarkably, something to do with the look that Sarah was throwing her Aunt. You could have sunk the Titanic it was so cold.

Children? Stiles was **_children_**? He glanced at Derek, who was still using his body to shield him, and felt the grip on his arm tighten before letting go completely. Although the wolf didn't look at him, Stiles could tell that Derek was almost relieved that he was being sent away. Like a **_child_**.

"We would not wish to interfere with your normal eating habits." Kevin was saying. "By all means, Sarah is very nearly 18 and would be classed an adult already in my family." Which caused her to preen and blush. Stiles had no idea what she saw in this guy. He was terrifying.

"Of course." Laura nodded. "I'm sure Stiles will not mind dining alone." Stiles got the feeling that the words were not meant for him, but for Sarah, who managed to glance in his direction, looking slightly guilty.

"The child can stay as well." Kevin shrugged, "If it would keep Sarah happy."

Stiles felt his temper flare – he wasn't a damn child and didn't like this oversized ape referring to him as one. But Derek had taken hold of his arm again and was mouthing the word '_Breathe'_ to him. Keep calm. **_Right_**. Calm. Breathe.

"Of course." Laura smiled, waving her hand at the table. "Please, join us."

Kevin didn't seem too pleased with the seating arrangements. Laura was at the head of the table, with Kevin to her right and Peter to her left. Stiles and Sarah were at the opposite end, to the left and right of Abigail who was sitting demurely at the foot of the long table. There was no way Laura could have say them further away from Kevin. A fact which Sarah was very aware of, judging by her dark glances up the table. Stiles was sitting by Derek, who had one of the strange Beta wolves at his left side, Sarah by Isaac who had another Beta at his right.

The table was large and full of food, and they were all seated very comfortably – no jostling of arms or legs – to make it feel cramped, but the atmosphere was tighter than a bow string.

Once Laura had filled her plate, and Kevin his, there was some unspoken signal that everyone seemed to understand aside from Stiles, and they all started piling their plates with food. Glancing at Sarah, who was spooning veg onto her plate, Stiles leaned forward – only have Derek kick his leg in warning. Sitting back, he saw one of Kevin's wolves look at him strangely for a second before he went back to his meal. Stiles really wasn't feeling the love at the table. Derek picked up his plate and filled it liberally before placing it down in front of Stiles with a nudge to the knee.

"So, Kevin, it's been too long." Peter smiled, "How have you been?"

"Well enough." The Alpha grunted, sawing his steak in half.

"We heard you had some issues with… interpack relations." Peter said with no hint of smarm in his tone. It was the first time Stiles had ever heard the older wolf talk like a normal person before.

"No." Was the snapped reply. "Pack is stronger than ever." Kevin glanced down the table. "So, Miss Sarah, how have you been these past few months?"

"Well." Was her reply, as she smiled up at the head of the table. "Better now, of course."

"Of course."

"We would invite you to stay the evening." Laura smiled. "Had we more time to prepare. There is a small, but pleasant enough hotel nearby, however, we would be delighted to direct you to."

"We only need the one room." Kevin smiled, showing lots of teeth.

"As you are aware, we have recently had some new additions to the family and all rooms are taken."

"Isaac can stay with Peter though." Sarah said, cutting over the conversation.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, child." Peter sighed. "I'm quite _**beyond**_his youthful stamina."

Stiles glanced at Derek, who was frowning at Sarah as though she'd just kicked a kitten. Stiles didn't get it. He shared a room with Isaac and Erica, there were at least three other rooms upstairs, and as far as he was aware – more than enough room for the recent arrivals. Unless Laura didn't want them in the house. Which he **_totally_**supported. Kevin was making him nervous.

"Age is its own enemy." Kevin said, with a smirk.

"Of course." Peter sighed. "Not in my prime like you, my boy. Not at all."

Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Bullshit. He had no idea what was going on, but Peter sure as hell wasn't 'past his prime' or whatever crap he was hinting at.

The other members of Kevin's pack didn't talk at all, just ate in silence. Stiles didn't trust his voice – or his control not to say something utterly stupid, so kept his head down and ate. He could tell Derek was relieved with that.

Isaac and Erica though, kept up a healthy conversation with Peter, Kevin and Abigail – discussing popular events and the current political climate. Isaac didn't sound anything like the boy that Stiles had first met on the bus. The quiet, unassuming boy at school that was often overlooked.

Although they didn't say a word, it was quiet clear that Kevin's Beta wolves were hanging on every word Erica said. She kept throwing them glances under her lashes as she talked, and going by the looks they were giving her back – it wasn't unwelcome.

"So, Sarah," Kevin cut over the chatter with his deep voice. "What have you been doing this afternoon?"

She blushed and glanced at Stiles before replying. "Reading mostly."

"Last time I met you, I think you were playing those childish games." The Alpha laughed, "I'm glad to see you've outgrown them."

"Oh, yes." Sarah nodded, eyes downcast. "Completely."

No one but Sarah saw the disbelieving look that Stiles threw at her. Seriously? This was the guy that she was head-over-paws in love with? This utter douche with the neo-Nazi hair cut? Sarah? Cool, gamer chick with an attitude? He couldn't believe it. **_Refused_**.

The look she threw him back was a warning, clear enough. _Open your mouth and I'll close it for you_, kind of look. And with Derek's hand on his thigh with a warning squeeze, Stiles continued to eat in silence.

* * *

The meal was over, eventually, and Laura lead them into the large formal living area. Erica and Isaac quickly took Kevin's three burly pack members aside and bombarded them with questions, but Stiles obviously wasn't included – he felt like an outsider. No wonder. He was the child, even though he was three months older than Erica.

Derek was almost super glued to his side, which normally Stiles would have been more than happy with, but he wasn't thrilled. He was getting more and more uncomfortable in his funeral clothes and the easily dismissed way he was being treated. Sarah was standing by Laura and Kevin – Peter wandering between everyone, glass in hand, finally settling beside Stiles and Derek.

"What a charming little family we all make." He smiled, lifting the glass to his lips. Years of his father drowning a difficult day at the office had made Stiles quickly observant to amber liquid in glasses, and he wasn't fooled. Peter still had the same amount of alcohol in that glass as he did an hour ago. "So civilised."

Derek didn't say anything, eyes fixed on Sarah.

"Perhaps it would be a good time for Stiles to settle for the night." Peter suggested, "I can take him."

Derek looked like he was going to argue for a moment before he nodded.

"Come on then, my child." Peter said, words slurring slightly. "Off we go."

Peter lead Stiles out of the room by the arm and walked in silence for a few moments. "Good lad." He said, suddenly walking a little straighter. "Come with me, keep the noise down." He glanced over his shoulder at the closed door as he touched a panel on the wall that swung open silently. "Trouble tonight, I think." He said, stepping through into the dark space, pulling Stiles behind him.

* * *

**_Sorry about not updating yesterday - I was utterly shattered!_**

**_Hope you like this update though! I really enjoyed writing it once I got myself out of my funk at the start, starting to see some kind of plot developing, kinda. Would be nice to have a clue. Still kind of falling for Peter - got some Erica in too, which I do love._**

**_Watched the season 3 episode where Dean and Sam get almost eaten by Pagan gods. Saddest Christmas ever? Holy hell, it hit me in the feels so hard I'm still reeling._**

**_Still working my way through S3. Cas is S4, right? God, I'm half in love with the Angel and I've never seen an episode with him in it!_**

**_Love you all! _**

**_*kisses*_**


	18. Chapter 18

The passage that was built in between the walls was long and thin – but obviously well used from the lack of dust.

"We did some extensive rebuilding after the fire, to ensure that we could escape should anything like that happen again." Peter was saying. The corridor was dark, but Stiles found he could see clearly as though there were a light all around. "Kevin and his pack know nothing about these. No one does." He paused and gave Stiles a glance. "Think of it as a family secret."

"Okay." Stiles nodded, walking behind Peter and feeling increasingly uneasy. "So… why am I here?"

"Kevin is… let's put it like this – his **_pack_** is unhappy. They want him to find a mate – preferably a pure born – and squeeze a few pups out before the next Alpha meet."

"Why?"

"Politics." Peter said, voice dripping with malice. "He's been sniffing about Sarah for years. Laura isn't about to let her baby child anywhere near those walking chemical factories." He paused. "Kevin is what you would call the result of some **_very_** selective breeding. His mother is not only his sister, but he is the son of his own brother."

"Wait, what?" Stiles said, as that sunk in. "Gross!"

"We are under the impression that he's second generation fucked up, and he needs a mate outside his pack to stop the three headed puppy gene from popping up."

"Please tell me that's not a thing."

"It's not a thing." Peter grinned in the dark. "But it could be soon. Why do you think we offer the bite? We need to keep new blood in the packs to stop this kind of thing from happening. During the new moon, the urge to mate is so strong that the actual partners are… unimportant."

"What, so like when I was all… up on Isaac, he could have been my brother and I wouldn't have stopped?"

"Exactly."

"That is fucking disgusting."

"We agree." Peter nodded. "Which is why we have Chosen like Danny and Jackson and Boyd here – should we require a partner."

"I thought that's what we were for, the Omegas."

"Not you. Good lord, I don't think Derek would be too happy if we were to start… well, I wouldn't be so happy if Derek stole Isaac from me – although I was quite interested in your little… show."

"Peter, you are **_seriously_** too fucked up for me to understand."

"I disagree." Peter smirked. "Think of me as… the only one in this house who actually appreciates all forms of affection and love." He paused, pushing open the door that suddenly appeared. "I am very fond of Isaac," He said, voice serious. "Quite a bit more than I expected, he reminds me of… well, **_me_**."

The room they stepped into was full of weapons. The walls were lines with racks upon racks of military looking guns and knives, bows and…

"Is that a rocket launcher?"

"Always prepared." Peter said.

"**_You_** were a scout?"

"I slept with one, once." Peter grinned, and Stiles couldn't help but laugh. Okay, so Peter might be all kinds of freaky, but he knew it and was more than willing to poke fun at his pervyness. Stiles could appreciate that.

"Why did Laura call me a child?" Stiles asked, it had been pissing him off. He hated the way he was so quickly dismissed. "I'm actually older than Erica." He added.

"Oh, my poor love." Peter said, walking past him and patting the top of his head. "We need to keep you secret. Can't have Kevin know we've got new blood that can go through a full shift without the moon." Peter tisked. "Let him think you are a child, our little secret. You're stronger than Isaac, Erica hasn't even started to show yet – and of course, there is the fact that you can argue with a Beta."

"I don't argue with anyone." Stiles argued.

"You'd rather sleep on the **_floor_** than do as you are told." Peter pointed out. "You've attacked Derek more than once, and you very nearly managed to push yourself away from Isaac – until my nephew made it worse by showing up, of course." He paused. "And – unlike Erica and Isaac, you're still a virgin."

"You don't know that!"

"Well, yes, my boy, I do." Peter said, tapping his nose. "Under normal circumstances I'd tell you to go upstairs and ride the boy like a merri-go-round, but perhaps now… you smell young, **_pure_** and freshly turned. And I'm past my prime and Laura is a 'weak' Alpha – aren't we all so easy to read?"

"You're tricking them?"

"Well done, young man!" Peter said, slapping him on the back. "Kevin isn't here to talk to Laura. He's here to take Sarah – and the idiot child will let him."

"She thinks she loves him."

"She hasn't met Patrick." Peter smiled.

"Who the hell is Patrick?" Stiles said, blinking. Nothing Peter said was making much sense to him now.

"Young Beta. Moved over here with his sister after the bombing in Dublin. Living with the Kildranoch pack in New York right now."

"And…?"

"Oh, late teens, dark hair, green eyes – plays an undead rouge, something about a server first," He paused. "We've been keeping an eye on him for some time. He's... growing. All reports seem positive, very pro-human, studies hard – enjoys politics and economics, sister contacted us after Patrick saw Sarah in some magazine." Peter frowned. "We've been keeping the communication between the packs very limited, but there are always leaks. I think Kevin knows about Patrick and is trying to… ensure his claim."

"Why don't you tell Sarah about this Patrick guy?"

Peter laughed, really laughed, and handed Stiles a gun. "Because she's young and headstrong and would never agree to it."

Stiles looked at the gun in his hands and then at Peter. "I'm not shooting anyone."

"He's going to **_take_** Sarah." Peter snapped. "Not in the nice, let's go running in the woods, young child and come live with my pack. I mean, hold her down and **_force_** her." Peter growled.

Stiles saw red, flooding his vision and causing him almost physical pain. Sarah was his friend, his pack, his sister. The growl he heard wasn't from Peter, but from his own throat.

"Keep calm, Stiles." Peter said, cupping his jaw. "You can't fight Kevin, he'll rip you apart. But the son of a sheriff can shoot him, right?" He asked, as Stiles nodded.

Peter picked up a mean looking knife, serrated blade and sharp as a razor. "Follow me."

* * *

Stiles was sitting in Sarah's bedroom when she finally wandered in. She didn't look too happy to see him.

"What are you doing in here?" She snapped, glaring. "I'm telling Laura. Or Derek."

"I'm here to see how you are." Stiles said. It had taken a long time, but he'd managed to get his temper under control, breathing slowly like Derek had shown him. "I thought you might have been pissed at Laura and want someone to talk to." He shrugged, getting out of the chair. "Sorry. I'll go."

"No!" Sarah grabbed his arm and held it tightly. "No, don't go, I'm sorry. I thought Peter had sent you or something."

"Why? I'm the baby." Stiles frowned. "The **_child_**."

"Yeah, I hate that too." Sarah said, pulling Stiles over to the bed and motioning him to sit. "Stay there, okay, I'm going to get changed."

It took her a half hour to shower and get changed into her regular clothes. Stiles noticed that, like him, she had put on day clothes rather than her pyjamas. Like she was expecting to go somewhere.

"Kevin's Beta guys didn't say much during dinner." Stiles started, leaning back against the bedframe as she climbed up and sat down. "One of them gave me a funny look."

Sarah nodded, frowning. "I saw that. I mean… maybe he **_liked_** you." She grinned. "Like… **_liked_** you."

"Doubtful." Stiles laughed. "Pretty sure that scrawny geeks aren't in high demand in the Other community."

"Thanks, by the way." Sarah said, reaching out and touching his arm. "For not dropping me in it with Kevin, with the gaming." She smiled.

"No worries, what are friends for?" he said, feeling the gun concealed under his shirt like a weight. He didn't like lying to Sarah, but he **_would_** protect her. Even if she didn't think she needed it.

"We're not friends." She said, giving him an odd look. "We're pack – and that's much better." She looked at the door and dropped her voice low. "What did you think of Kevin, then?"

Stiles thought about what to say. He didn't want to tell her a lie, but didn't want her to get pissed at him either. "He's not like I thought he would be." Stiles hedged. "Much bigger."

"He's huge, isn't he?" Sarah blushed. "Did you see how he spoke to me too?"

"Yeah." Stiles nodded.

"Totally singled me out all night. You missed it, but he was very attentive." She preened, flipping her dark hair. "He told me he likes me very much." She whispered, leaning much closer than before. "Told me about his pack lands and everything."

"Sounds… interesting?"

"Well…" She said, leaning back. "You don't tell people about your home unless you want them to visit it. And then he told me."

"Told you what?"

"He came **_just_** to see me." Her thrilled expression was almost painful to Stiles, she was really, really into this freaky inbred Alpha. "He asked me if I'd even been to New York," She gushed. "When I said no, he was all, 'what a shame' and I think he would like to take me there."

Patrick was in New York, Peter had said, the wolf who sounded perfect for Sarah. So Kevin knew about him, just like Peter had thought.

"New York. I think I'd like it there." She grinned, looking at her nails. "I'd love it. All those people, all those Other. Not like here, where you don't get to leave the house because Laura is too weak to protect us and Peter is an old man."

That didn't sound like the Sarah that Stiles had spent hours playing games with, talking and play fighting with. That sounded just like Kevin – Peter wasn't an old man, and if the punch that had broken Stiles jaw was anything to go by, Laura wasn't a weak **_anything_**. Kevin had obviously spent a lot of time with Sarah if she was starting to sound like him. "I mean… come on. Three new bloods…" She scoffed. "Because Laura can't find a mate, and her supposed to be an Alpha?" Sarah laughed. "What kind of Alpha can't go after what they **_want_**?" She glanced at the window. "Kevin goes after what he wants, like a **_real_** Alpha."

"Yeah." Stiles nodded. "I bet he does."

"I knew you'd understand." Sarah smiled. "You're like the best thing in this house."

Stiles felt terrible, ill, like a sickness had settled in his gut and wouldn't leave. Sarah was his friend, a real friend – who liked computer games and comic books, board games and play fighting. She wasn't this… different person. The gun under his shirt was heavy, getting heavier – knowing that he was probably never going to be friends with Sarah if he tried to keep Kevin away from her. She'd never forgive him, even if he was doing it to keep her safe.

"He told me not to tell anyone." Sarah whispered. "But… you're like… the only one here who is like me." She said, holding onto his hand. "We're going to elope!"

* * *

The glass of her bedroom window shattered, blowing sharp, cutting blades flying at them both. Stiles grabbed Sarah and rolled, right off the bed and onto the floor, using his body to shield her from any damage. He could feel his skin, cut and bleeding, trying to heal, but the glass imbedded in him made it impossible.

"Are you okay?" He asked, franticly patting Sarah down. She was crying, holding on to him tightly.

"You're hurt!" She sobbed. "Is it terrorists?" Fear on her face.

That was what he remembered, before he was lifted and slammed hard into the wall, so hard his ribs broke and the glass covering his back was pushed even deeper. He howled in agony, sinking to the floor as Sarah screamed his name.

Kevin, standing in Sarah's room, looked larger and much more terrifying that he had at dinner. He had Sarah held roughly by the top of her arm, and she was struggling, trying to get to him – crumpled on the floor and whining with pain.

Kevin kicked him hard in the ribs he'd already broken, as Sarah screamed at him to stop. The gun under his shirt was pressing hard into his side, useless because he couldn't move as Kevin continued to kick the shit out of him.

"Never touch what is mine!" He roared, lodging a swift kick to Stiles head – sinking him into a blackness, the last thing he heard – Sarah screaming his name, voice filled with fear and terror.

* * *

Pain.

Pain was everywhere. Stiles whimpered, trying to fight through the darkness around him.

"Stay still, Stiles." That was… not Laura. Abigail? "I'm taking the glass out of your back."

He whimpered again, ask more pain sliced through him. He couldn't talk, his mouth was stuffed with something, breathing was difficult.

"Your jaw is setting well, I'm keeping it open so you don't break your teeth." She was saying, as Stiles groaned in agony. "A few more shards and you'll start healing on your own." She was saying. "We were a little worried about your eye, but it looks like it went back in quite well." She paused. "You may have a few scars where you tried to heal before we could pull the glass out, but nothing too serious."

Stiles whimpered again, as he felt the glass scrape against his skin as it was pulled out. "There we go. A few inches to the left and you'd be spending the rest of your life in a wheelchair." He could hear the glass hit a metal bowl, or pan… something. His head was swimming again, and blackness claimed him.

* * *

He opened his eyes, bright lights and white walls glaringly bright to his eyes. He lifted his hand to cover his face. He was still hurting, but not so bad that he couldn't move. He pulled himself up, swinging his legs around. Danny was there, sitting on a plastic chair and watching him with a worried expression.

"How do you feel?" Danny asked, getting to his feet. He looked… pale, worn.

"Sore." Stiles admitted, standing. His head was swimming, it took a few moments for him to be able to stand up properly.

Nothing made sense. Where was he? Why was everything hurting?

"Danny, what happened?"

"What do you remember?" Danny hedged, looking at the wide glass mirror that covered most of the wall.

"I was… in the greenhouse. Hungry." He managed. "Missed breakfast again, because of Derek." His mouth hurt, his back hurt. His left eye was slightly fuzzy, like he needed to blink to see, but when he did, it didn't change.

"Okay." Danny nodded, looking at the window again. "The doctor will want to see you." He said, smiling softly. Stiles could hear the boys heartbeat, racing and tripping. Danny was trying not to show it, but he was scared.

Scared.

Of **_Stiles_**.

"What's going on?" Stiles asked, looking at the door. "Why am I here?"

"Stiles, you've been hurt and they just want to make sure you're okay, that's all." Danny said.

"Don't lie to me!" Stiles roared, grabbing the table and throwing it across the room. "Tell me what's happened!" He raged, seeing red and temper burning so fast he felt like he was going to fly to pieces any moment. He'd thrown the table. The **_metal_** table. Across the room.

He stared at it for a few moments, swaying from side to side.

"Sarah!" He called out – memories crashing into him like a tidal wave. "Sarah!" He dove for the door, pulling so hard that he accidentally ripped the thing from its hinges.

There were people on the other side of the mirrored glass, watching him – the scattered as he ran for the main doors – pushing trolleys and leaping over tables to get to the door – the one that lead to the house.

Kevin had taken Sarah – he had to find her. He was supposed to protect her, and he had failed.

Pulling the door open, he found himself in the main house again – scrambling up the stairs to get to Sarah's room, howling her name. He could smell deep red blood, thick in the air before he even got to her door, which was off its hinges and shattered to bits. Blood coated the walls, so thick that it had formed rivulets that had soaked into the cream carpet. Foot-prints in blood, leading out of the room, and a set out of the window. He could smell Sarah everywhere, and ran for the smashed opening, leaping from the frame and landing on a crouch on the grass outside. He could hear howling from all sides, but there was one he was listening for, and couldn't hear. He could smell blood, his blood, and saw on the grass that Kevin had trailed his boots coated with Stiles blood through the forest. He howled, throwing his head up to the stars and letting his temper and feral instincts take over.

Dropping to his hands, he pushed up from the ground and ran, finding it much easier to cover more ground using his hands to help him as he ran – wolf like to the forest line.

* * *

Isaac was running, keeping low to the ground, following a scent that didn't belong to either Sarah or Kevin. He'd been lost, confused by all the scents and howls he wasn't sure how to react to – when he picked up on Stiles. Turning instantly, he ran, a few feet behind his friend. Erica too – burst out of the clearing, running on two legs rather than four, but covering good ground. Stiles let out another howl – answered to the south – but kept on his course, not turning.

Isaac was hurt, bleeding and confused at what was going on. He'd been attacked by one of Kevin's Betas as he'd ran towards the sound of screaming, of Stiles in pain, and Sarah screaming for help. His side was ragged and skin flapping as he ran, but he could feel the blood slow as he healed. Erica had saved his life, actually ripping out the heart of the Beta with her bare hands, eyes glowing gold.

There had been more than three of Kevin's Betas in the house, Isaac knew that for sure – he'd seen at least 5 jump Peter, who cut three down almost instantly before Isaac reached him and finished off the other two. The forest was full of them – confusing his scent trails and making him edgy and unsure.

He couldn't see or smell what Stiles was following, but he knew instinctively that he was following **_something_**. His whole body was focused on whatever he was chasing. Isaac couldn't believe that it was even Stiles, not after what he had witnessed.

Isaac had seen Derek pull Stiles out of the room, unsure if he was alive or dead. His eye was hanging from its socket, touching his cheek, jaw smashed so badly Isaac couldn't tell what he was looking at right away – covered in blood and so many bones in the wrong place, it had taken him too long to realise that it was Stiles **_face_**.

But that was… an hour ago? Maybe even less – Isaac had lost all track of time in the hunt. An hour to heal from something like that, when the gash on **_his_** side was still a gaping wound?

There was a noise in the distance, a muffled whimper that caused Stiles to launch forward at speed, Isaac struggling to keep up with him, and Erica falling behind. Stiles was growling, and Isaac heard his anger and power like fuel to the blood. He howled, throwing his head back and calling down the moon.

* * *

Stiles heard Sarah whimper, too far away to reach, but close enough. Rage pounding through his body, he growled low, heard Isaac's howl – an answer to the left of them – much further away. They would reach Kevin first.

There was a sound he'd heard before as he launched himself out of the trees and at the figure by the car – the click of a bullet entering the barrel of a gun, before he was shot. Isaac leapt too – was rewarded with a bullet to the leg as he used his teeth and claws to maim their shooter. The gun went flying through the air, forgotten as Isaac ripped the throat out of the Beta who'd shot them, almost pulling his head off with the force.

Kevin was there, struggling with Sarah who was kicking and screaming, clawing at the eyes and face of the huge Alpha as he forced her into the car. Stiles leapt at him, forgetting about the pain in his shoulder. He had to save Sarah – he promised he would keep her safe.

Kevin though, even with three Omegas and Sarah, a Beta, was much too strong for them to fight. Stiles was ripped from his back and slammed bodily into the roof of the car, Isaac thrown almost a football pitch in length through the trees, his body actually breaking a few of them on his trajectory. Erica kicked easily after him. She was the first back into the fight though, launching herself back at Kevin almost as soon as she landed. Stiles flipping around on the roof and grabbing Kevin's head, trying to gouge his eyes out. Sarah was still kicking and clawing, but her movement was restricted by the car – she was literally trapped inside by the sheer bulk of Kevin's body.

A howl, much nearer now – screaming power and strength – made Kevin turn his head towards the sound. For the first time, Stiles saw an unsure look cross the massive Alphas face.

"Start the car!" He growled, a few moments before the engine roared to life. Erica used Kevin's body like a springboard, pushing off and diving for the windscreen. Stiles had not thought to check if there was anyone else in the car.

Once again, he was thrown – hitting the hard tarmac with a crack, his leg, he assumed as he tried to get back up and collapsed – watching Isaac as he was kick solidly in the face, falling in a heap, eyes glassy and unresponsive.

"Go!" Kevin yelled, punching Sarah in the face and knocking her back into the car – shoving his massive body into the back of the car after her.

Erica, trying to punch her way through the windscreen, was thrown from the car as it sped down the road – leaving Stiles desperately trying to get to his feet – howling in anger and frustration.

* * *

**_I loved writing this. I really did! _**

**_I really don't like Kevin, and I really do love Peter. And I want to smack Sarah upside the head so hard! Silly little girl – although I think she has come to her senses _**VERY**_ quickly now – nothing like the love of your young life trying to kill your best friend to ruin the mood. _**

**_Stiles got himself utterly whomped in this – something that I'll admit I kinda liked writing, much to my dismay. Because he was such a BAMF in my last story, it was very…. _**_liberating__** to write him as an Omega. Still strong, still trying to be Super!Stiles but getting his ass kicked all the same. **_

**_Ok, so I just really enjoyed writing this._**

**_Love you all loads. Especially you!_**


	19. Chapter 19

Erica was running after the car already, upright on both legs. Stiles was pretty sure the car was a stickshift because there wasn't that instant burst of speed – but still it was going too fast for Erica to catch up with. Stiles hauled himself to his feet, before collapsing to his knees – his broken leg not taking any weight at all. He let out an anguished howl, unable to put his feelings into words. He was working purely on primal feelings now.

Suddenly, bursting into the middle of the road in front of the speeding car, was Laura. She was covered in blood, the headlights of the car glaring off her red Alpha eyes right before the car smashed into her. Stiles screamed, a half human, half animal sound that was made of fear and pain – before the car flipped over.

It actually sailed through the air like it had hit a brick wall, hood crushing like an accordion, the body of the car pushing up into the air, boot pointing to the sky before it fully flipped, landing on the roof and sliding for several feet – Laura standing like a rock. Her face was a mask of rage and death.

Something grabbed Stiles leg, pulling him backwards. He kicked as he turned, foot connecting with the face of a blond Beta – he heard the satisfying sounds of bones breaking before he was grabbed by another.

The fight took over his mind. His broken leg being an obvious spot of weakness that the two Betas were more than willing to exploit, they were able to keep him on the ground as they pounced on him. Stiles wasn't thinking. He'd never been a fighter, he'd always been able to use his words – more cutting and dangerous than his weak body, but now – unable to even form a single word – his body was talking for him. He punched and clawed, latching teeth into soft skin and ripping till his mouth was full of blood and skin. His leg was healing quickly, much faster than he would have thought – much faster than the Betas thought, because when he flipped to his feet and pushed off the tarmac to fly at the bigger on – he saw the surprise.

Isaac was suddenly there, snarling and biting – He jumped on the back of the smaller of the two betas from Stiles and grabbed the top of his jaw, pulling back so hard that Stiles heard a loud pop before the skin around the betas mouth ripped – he'd pulled so hard he'd almost taken the top of his head off, neck broken – just as Stiles punched the larger beta squarely in the ribs. He felt the bones break under his fist, the soft, almost doughy feel of lungs collapsing – before his hand actually ripped through the other side of the Other. Confused, he flexed his hand – cold air on his wet fingers – before he pulled his hand back through the body. It hit the ground without a sound.

Behind him he could hear a snarling that he recognised in his very soul – turning to see Derek and Peter fighting another group of Beta and Omega wolves by the car. They ran, both Isaac and Stiles, bloody hands hitting tarmac in unison as they pushed their bodies faster.

There was a gunshot to the left of Stiles, he turned to see Boyd and Danny, holding shotguns and pointing them into the trees. Jackson was holding a handgun and bleeding badly, pointing it at the car – he emptied the clip into the driver.

But Stiles was within leaping distance of Derek and Isaac was already in the air – launching himself with a snarl. Stiles kept low to the ground, grabbing legs and twisting. He'd already found being handicapped by a broken leg was a distinct disadvantage. He planned to ensure that they knew how it felt to get the shit beaten out of them.

* * *

The fighting was brutal – Kevins pack was not only larger in numbers, but also in size. Even the Omegas were twice as big as Stiles – and seemed to be made of muscle. But... they were losing. Obviously outmatched. Stiles wasn't thinking right, but he knew he shouldn't be able to take down a Beta twice his size, no matter how hard it was. He could hear Peter laughing.

"Idiot breeders." He said, punching an Omega so hard his skull split. "This is why you don't impregnate your sisters."

Isaac was using his teeth to rip at anything he could reach, while Stiles was grabbing and twisting as many limbs as he could, Peter and Derek easily finishing off the wounded.

There was a howl, one of rage and anger – one that stuttered Stiles heart and caused him to hit the ground, whimpering. An Alpha roar.

Kevin was out of the car, facing off to Laura. He was huge, so much bigger than her – Stiles could see Erica pulling Sarah out of the crumpled car, her body limp and unresponsive. The remaining members of Kevin's pack had stopped fighting, simply standing – watching.

Peter calmly decapitated one of them without looking, eyes fixed on Laura.

It was Kevin who leapt first – his huge body moving faster than Stiles expected. Laura was faster still though – ducking under his body and punching up, fist connecting with his gut. The sound like a shovel hitting wet cement. Stiles whimpered, still crouching on the ground. Derek's hand found the top of his head – Stiles felt it like an anchor, chasing off the wolf and allowing him to think again. Laura and Kevin were fighting for real now, teeth and claws, skin no longer human but almost fully shifted into wolves. Kevin was larger, and more powerful, but Laura was so fast that half his heavy blows didn't even connect. She was feral though – nothing like the calm woman Stiles had seen in the house. She was fighting for her pack now – for Sarah and it was that ferocity that struck Stiles with a great pride, mingled through his fear and anger. He was proud that this was his Alpha – that she was strong and fast.

Kevin was stronger though – with every punch that landed, Stiles could see Laura getting weaker, could hear her bones break, hear the laboured breathing – smell the blood on her skin. His heart was racing – sweat forming on his brow, unable to move from the crouch, Derek's hand on his head. Stiles whined in the back of his throat, the sound echoed by Isaac. Peter was holding him up, one arm around his waist. Stiles wanted to move, wanted to leap and help, but his body was frozen in place. He wasn't the only one though – he could tell that Kevin's pack were equally rooted to the spot, eyes fixed on their Alpha who was starting to easily overpower Laura. Could tell by the way they were tensed to leap but couldn't move, almost wavering on the spot.

When it happened, it happened fast.

Kevin's fist connected with the side of Laura's head with a sickening thud – she hit the ground in a mass of limp limbs, whimpering and broken. Kevin roared, feet braced on the ground – tipped his head back and howled at the moon – claws open, arms wide. The stance of a victor. The ultimate Alpha.

Stiles wasn't even sure how it happened. Kevin was howling, and then there was silence. Total silence, instant and deafening, as his body hit the ground with a limp thud. Laura was on her feet, hand holding his still beating heart. She had ripped it right out of his body.

Her howl was terrifying, and Stiles was powerless to control the howl that was ripped from his throat, mixed with the voices of his pack – they brought the moon down with their victory.

* * *

Stiles was in bed. He'd been in bed for days. He wasn't alone though, so that was something. Erica and Isaac were curled up beside him, a mess of arms and legs in the shared king-size that they'd been given when they were first turned. Danny and Boyd were on the floor, out like lights. They and Jackson had been offered the bite, but had (much to Stiles eternal shock) had refused. Boyd had asked if he could stay though, as a human. Danny and Jackson would go home at the end of the month, with glowing reports of their bravery and sacrifice to the Hale Pack. Jackson would get into Harvard Law on that alone, and Danny was going to MIT. They were both pretty pleased.

Stiles tried to turn around without disturbing Isaac, who was pressed right up against his back, managing to slide out of bed without a sound, padding silently to the door.

The house was in shambles when they'd eventually gotten back. Bodies in the hallways and the permanent staff unsure of what to do. Call the police? Call the fucking army? No one knew.

Stiles found out very quickly that there was a world that ordinary humans, like his dad or his guidance councillor would never actually know about. Laura called the Alpha council and within an hour, the air was thick with the sound of helicopters and the house was teaming with wolves Stiles didn't know, strange scents and accents.

The bodies were removed, the surrounding forests were flushed out and another twenty or so of Kevin's wolves were found – more bodies than Stiles wanted to know about. Kevin had brought his entire pack. There were only a handful left – Stiles wanted to ask what happened to them, but was scared. He saw no one taken away – only dozens of black body bags.

They'd been locked in the room at first, food brought in by Gibson who acted as though nothing was going on. His heart rate was slow and steady, calm and cool. He answered questions with an 'I couldn't say,' or simply look at them blankly until they stopped asking. After a few days though, the door was unlocked. No one had felt safe enough to leave the room.

Stiles was standing in the hallway, the smell of new carpeting and paint the first thing he noticed. Sarah's door had been replaced; everything looked... just like it had done before. Derek's bedroom door was closed, but Stiles knew that the only door in the house with a lock was **_theirs_**, and he pushed the heavy wooden door open.

Derek wasn't there, Stiles wasn't sure if he was disappointed or not. The room was heavy with the smell of him though, and that was good enough, like a balm on his nerves. Unthinking, he climbed up on to the bed, pulled the covers over his head and closed his eyes, the first time in days he'd been able to breathe without feeling like he was going to throw up.

* * *

The shower was the worst, because the hot water reminded him of the feeling of blood on his skin. The first time he'd gotten under the spray he'd had a full blown panic attack and Isaac had to pull him out, rocking him back and forth on the floor for hours until Peter found them, both crying like children and unable to move.

"Come on, my boys." He'd said, pulling them to their feet with ease. "Come on. Back to bed with you both."

He'd climbed in with them, and Stiles curled into his side and held tightly as he cried for his dad to come and make it better.

Peter sent for the sheriff the same day, he arrived only a few hours after the call was made.

"Dad?" Stiles gasped, as he walked through the bedroom doors.

"Son." He said, reaching out and enveloping Stiles in a hug that lasted just long enough for Stiles to start crying again.

"I killed him." He said, "I put my hand right through his body and I didn't care." He wept. His dad stayed that night, rocking him to sleep and telling him bout the first and only time he'd fired his weapon, and how he understood what Stiles was going through. He didn't, not **_really_**, but his dad was there, and everything was better when he was cuddled up like a baby in his arms.

He stayed all night, leaving in the morning in the sleek black car that had brought him. He promised he'd come again as soon as he was able. Stiles had wanted to go home, was desperate to go home and forget what he had done. How he had killed a person. More than one, he was sure of it – but the only face he could remember was the Beta he'd pushed his hand through.

He knew he couldn't go home. He had no control. He could hurt someone. He understood.

* * *

"Try to read the top line." The doctor was saying, and Stiles was struggling. His eye was still fuzzy, like he needed to blink a few more times to get it clear of whatever was in it.

"A, I, P. I think F? Maybe R."

"And now?"

"That's just made it worse."

"And now?"

"Nope."

"And this?"

"Nope." Stiles snapped. "Stop fucking around and clicking things."

"Try to breathe," Derek said, from the other side of the room.

"Piss off." He growled. "My eye is broken. I'm blind."

"You aren't blind." The doctor said, soothingly. "You are healing. The retinal nerves were very badly damaged, it will take time to mend."

"It's been a week."

"Bones and skin are easy to heal; the human body does this without the healing power of the Other." The doctor said. "You are healing something that no human would be able to do, and it is a longer process. You are not yet in full control of your wolf side."

"It's been a week."

"Shut up, Stiles."

"Fuck off, Derek."

* * *

_**So I never, **__**EVER**__** upload at the weekends, because I've normally got a bucketload of things that need doing, but you know what? Today I was blissfully free of work and I thought... I loved writing that last chapter so much I'm going to write another. And this happened. **_

_**I'm pretty happy now, I think this won't be too much longer - another chapter, maybe two, so heads up.**_

_**I've seen a picture on Tumblr of Regency!Wolf and that is my genre - my goal in life is to be a Regency Romance author, so the idea of writing a Teenwolf Jane Austin inspired story has me by the throat and won't let go.**_

_**Laura is so BAMF.**_

_**Kevin is an idiot. You don't do your celebration roar thingy until you're actually sure the other wolf is dead.**_

_**Love you in illegal ways ;)**_

_**And now I'm off to try and finish season 3 of SPN so I can FINALLY meet Cas.**_

* * *

Oh, I've reached my document limit of 50 chapters. :s

If I delete some, will that remove them from my previous stories?


	20. Chapter 20

Stiles was having trouble sleeping. Erica was burning up, kicking the covers off and spending most of the night doing an impression of a windmill, arms and legs kicking and flying around the bed. Isaac had given up any pretence of sleeping with them and had simply emptied his wardrobe and moved into Peters room. That had been last week.

Sometimes, if he was sure that the sex was over and he'd not be scarred for life, Stiles would leave Erica and her flying fists of fury and crawl into bed beside Peter and Isaac, needing comfort – **_desperate_** for sleep. Peter wrapped him up and petted him for long hours, rubbing his back and making odd purring sounds that relaxed Stiles to his bones – but he still lay awake, long after Peter drifted off.

He missed Derek.

It took a few days for him to understand why he was feeling so fucking off, like a part of him was missing. He'd wandered through the house like a ghost for the first few days, not settling on anything – unable to concentrate. Laura, Derek and Abigail were off at some emergency meeting and Peter had remained to ensure that they, the Omegas, were safe and getting help to control themselves. They could not be contacted. Killing an entire pack had consequences. There was an investigation. There was fallout.

So he spent his days just wandering around – which was why he'd found Gibson in the forest eating a fucking raw bunny. Not Other – or at least... not a wolf. Not with **_feathers_**.

He'd been pretty okay with Stiles though, who'd freaked out so much he'd wolfed out and ran about 3 miles before he'd calmed down and went back to the house. Gibson was there, fed him enough ice-cream to make Stiles feel a little better, and then quiet calmly told him that there was more than one type of Other, and that would he please not wear his outside clothes in bed because the staff were complaining about the mud on the sheets.

Isaac was getting worse, lashing out and fighting with Stiles every chance he got – unless he was in that post-sex stage when he'd quite happily snuggle up and sleep solidly. Erica too – was out of it half the time. Peter had brought in 'tutors' for her, who were showing her how to work on the cars in the garage, something she apparently found calming. When she wasn't fucking their brains out, anyway.

Stiles though, was getting… thin. Thin and stretched out, **_desperate_** for sleep. After two weeks he was now unable to fight with Isaac and just let the boy beat the crap out of him until Peter hauled him off. Peter didn't like yelling at Isaac, thought the fighting was amusing at first. Until Stiles stopped healing. Then Peter stopped smiling.

* * *

Sarah was locked in her room – refusing to come out at all, and spending most of her time crying, sound muffled by the pillow or whatever she was using to cover the sounds.

After the bodies had been taken away, there was an investigation – and it turned out that Sarah had been talking to Kevin for some time, online via emails. There had been **_hundreds_**, each one of them asking for more and more information about the Hale grounds, the pack, its weaknesses, dressed up in words of concern and flirting. Enough to convince Sarah that Kevin loved her. No one knew just how far it had gone.

Kevin had apparently heard about Patrick and had been concerned, but aware that Laura was keeping them separated – then when Sarah had missed sending a few emails back, he'd asked why.

She'd replied that she'd been hanging out with Stiles, a new Omega. She'd talked about him enough in her emails that Kevin had decided to visit. With his pack. And a grudge.

Stiles wanted to go and talk to her, wanted things to go back to how they were – but when he'd tried she'd just taken one look at him and became hysterical. Peter told him later that she'd thought Kevin had killed him in her room – guilt over his one milky eye that **_still_** hadn't healed making it worse.

And Stiles was getting sicker.

* * *

After three weeks he couldn't even eat solids. He spent most of his time in the medical ward, hooked up to monitors. He'd overheard Peter talking to the doctors. Stiles was rejecting the bite. Perhaps the damage done by Kevin was too much for him to take, so soon after being turned – they said. He was dying.

* * *

He could hear Peter talking, arguing, yelling. The occasional thud of a fist hitting a wall hurt Stiles head, even from the relative peace of the medical ward. Peter was trying to contact Laura, and they wouldn't let him talk to her. He'd been going over the same phone call for three days, arguing for hours. Stiles tried to block it out. Danny, who couldn't hear the argument three floors above, continued to read. His voice was calming, the book picked at random – just keep Stiles calm, keep him quiet, keep him comfortable. Let him die in peace.

* * *

A month, a full month after Kevin had attacked – the council let Peter spoke to Laura on the phone. He only said three words before he hung up. "Stiles is dying."

* * *

It could only have been a few hours after the call that Stiles heard the dull thud of helicopter propellers, a few moments later, the door opened and Derek walked in. He was pale, looked worried – Stiles managed to smile weakly before he blacked out.

* * *

He woke up in bed, sandwiched between two warm bodies and a constant thrum of a purr. A hand on his back, rubbing gently and another in his hair – he was unable to move.

"Shh." Laura said, voice not breaking the quiet purr that Derek was maintaining. "Go back to sleep."

* * *

When he woke up, the bed was empty. Warm, but empty. He could hear the shower running. Could smell Derek. He blinked a few times, forgetting that the fuzzy vision in his left eye wasn't caused by sleep. He felt… good. Sliding out of the bed and walking towards the shower on legs that felt like Bambi, he pushed open the door. The first thing that hit him was the smell. The steam was thick with the scent of pears and musk and **_Derek_**. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a shower. Not for a while. He stripped off shakily and opened the door.

Derek must have heard him, which was lucky, because he grabbed Stiles just before he hit the ground.

"You should be in bed." Was all he said though, as Stiles slumped against the wall, taking deep lungfuls of scented steam. The last time Stiles was in the shower with Derek things had gotten… well… pretty damn amazing. Not this time, though. This time Derek just carried on showering and Stiles watched, detached. "Do you need help?" he asked, once he'd washed the last of the foam out of his dark hair. Stiles nodded.

Not even with Derek and his soapy hands touching every fucking part of his body was Stiles able to get hard. Wasn't even able to muster up a sexy thought. Just stood under the water and let Derek do everything, like he was some kind of child. A baby.

He was leaning half against the wall when he fell back to sleep.

* * *

He woke up in bed, smelling clean and warm – Derek spooning him from behind, head tucked neatly on his shoulder. He had a book in his hand and was actually reading **_over_** Stiles body, every now and then snuggling his face deeper into Stiles neck.

The book was super dull, Greek history – not the fun kind with the gods and the myths, but the political stuff with economics and **_dullness_**. It was nice though, snuggled up and comfortable, even though his arm had gone numb and his eye was fuzzy, making reading difficult.

"I wasn't done reading that." Stiles muttered, as Derek flipped the page over. Derek didn't move, just turned the page back and waited. "Okay," Stiles nodded after a few minutes. "Done."

They stayed like that for a while, Derek nuzzling his neck and Stiles nodding when he'd finished the page. Stiles knew when Derek was done reading, because his attention became much more focused on Stiles neck. Namely, the **_nuzzling_** of Stiles neck – and once or twice, trailing his mouth over the corded tendon. It was distracting, making him lose his place on the page and his toes curl.

After a while though, Stiles became aware that Derek had stopped reading. Sure, he was still turning the pages, but there was no pause between that and the nuzzling. After about a half hour of this, Derek must have noticed that Stiles wasn't asking him to turn the page. He paused, lifting his head slightly and letting the book fall closed. Stiles just tipped his head more to the left, giving Derek full access to his neck.

For the better part of an hour, Derek nuzzled, licked and generally made happy huffing sounds into Stiles throat. It had two effects on Stiles, firstly, his cock was hard enough to cut diamond, (which he knew Derek was aware of because his thigh was between Stiles legs and every now and then Stiles couldn't help but grind) and secondly, brought him back to the land of the living.

"Why am I not dying?" He asked, blushing because his voice was rough and a little too obviously turned on. When Derek didn't answer, Stiles let it go for a few minutes, because he was doing something with his lips on Stiles collar bone that was making thinking hard.

"I should be dead." He managed, eventually. Damn, but his voice was half a whine – half an open invitation to rip his clothes off. He wasn't wearing clothes. Wait…. **_What?_**

"I'm naked."

"I know." Derek growled, the first words he'd spoken since Stiles had woken up, mouth still pressed up against Stiles neck. He nipped the skin, which made Stiles buck under him – how did he manage to get on top? – and grind up.

"You have clothes on." Stiles managed after the desperate wave of need and want faded. "And why am I not dead?"

"Do you want to be dead?"

"No."

"Then shut up." Derek growled, before rocking his body against Stiles. The resulting whine from Stiles would be one he'd deny for the rest of his life. The man was killing him. The only thing keeping him sane was the burning desire to know what the **_hell_** was going on.

"But why?"

"Stiles, **_seriously_**?" Derek said, pushing himself up, the first time since Stiles woke up that Derek hadn't had his face buried in his neck. The cold air wasn't welcome and Stiles whimpered from the loss of contact. "I can answer your questions or I can carry on. Pick one."

"Multi task?" Stiles hedged, trying to pull Derek down or himself up. He didn't want Derek to stop – hell no – but he was going to actually die if Derek didn't explain soon. "I thought I was rejecting the bite."

"No." Derek muttered, allowing Stiles to pull his head back down and gently biting the soft skin. "No, you're going to be okay." He said, before his hand wrapped around Stiles hip. Stiles naked hip. If the wolf thought that was supposed to be a comforting gesture, the way that Stiles reacted told him different. He was already starting to sweat, and couldn't have stopped his hips grinding against the hard thigh pressed between his legs if the world was crumbling around him. "How close are you?" Derek mumbled, mouth closing over the throbbing vein on Stiles neck.

"If I wasn't rejecting the bite, why was I sick?" He hissed out, balls starting to contract just with the friction of Derek's cotton covered thigh and the feel of his mouth on Stiles skin. His breath was starting to become short bursts, gasps for oxygen.

"_How close are you_?" Derek repeated, pulling back and obviously able to tell from the expression of mindless need on his face. "Just let go."

Stiles body responded before bothering to consult his brain, hips bucking and hands fisting in Derek's short hair as he came, hot strands of cum coating his stomach and soaking into the thin cotton vest that Derek wore. He moaned, sound swallowed by the roaring in his ears – blood fizzing and popping in his veins.

When it was over, Stiles managed to open his eyes and look at Derek, still leaning over him – looking down, expression unreadable. "You weren't rejecting the bite, you just got sick."

"Why?"

"Can you just let it go?" Derek asked, frowning. "You aren't dying, you're already starting to heal, so just drop it."

"Fine." Stiles snapped, all those lovely post-orgasmic feelings fading fast. "Fine." He pushed. "Get off me. I need a shower."

"Do you need help?" Derek said, pushing off and rolling with grace to the other side of the bed.

"I'm perfectly able to wash myself." Stiles said, not too keen on having to walk, still hard, to the bathroom. Naked.

"You weren't earlier." Derek reminded him, voice tight.

"Yeah, well that was earlier and like you said, I'm not dying," He said, pushing the door open. "So just drop it."

The door slammed with a satisfying bang, one that conveyed the message of **_I'm so fucking pissed at you right now_** perfectly.

* * *

Stiles hadn't even got the temperature of the water how he wanted when Derek opened the glass door to the shower and stepped in, hitting a few buttons and getting the water how Stiles wanted instantly. He was about to make a very heated argument that he was perfectly okay when Derek leaned forward and pushed him against the wall, mouth covering his. Stiles had two options, he either grabbed Derek's shoulders or fall to the marble floor. Not really an option when Derek was wet. Naked. Hard.

"I'm mad." Stiles said, pulling back even as he wrapped his arms around Derek's neck. He was almost the same height as Derek, but the wolf had a few inches on him – Stiles was forced up onto the balls of his feet to keep the position.

"I know." Derek nodded, before the hands on Stiles hips slid around his body and grabbed his ass. Stiles leaned back, pretty sure his expression was somewhere between a deer in the headlights and what the actual fuck? But didn't try to pull away, not even when – never breaking eye contact, Derek lifted Stiles completely off his feet and pushed him against the wall. Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek's back, letting the wolf take his weight completely.

"Still mad." He managed even as Derek gently pushed a wet finger against his hole. Uncomfortable, but not painful, he let the back of his head rest against the tiles. Derek nodded, as his finger pushed inside. It didn't hurt, not any more than when Stiles had tried it on his own – but the fact that almost right away Derek pushed another finger in made Stiles hiss in protest. The burn was instant, pain causing him to pull away.

"It's okay." Derek said, voice not as calm as he was trying to make out.

"Easy for you." Stiles hissed. "You aren't the one with-" whatever he was about to say was utterly lost in the sudden bolt of sensation that spiked through his entire body. If he'd not been held up he would have fallen over. "Oh," He managed once he'd remembered how to use words. "That's what it feels like. I've been trying to hit it and never managed." He nodded, enthusiastically. "You can do that again." He said, leaning back. Opening his eyes when Derek didn't. "Dude. Do that again."

But Derek's eyes were glowing blue, jaw set hard. Stiles could actually hear his teeth grinding under the pressure. "Okay, Derek." Stiles nodded. "Okay." His mind was whirring, spinning at a million miles an hour and diving through too much information. "Lube." He finally said. "Lots of lube. I've looked. There isn't any in the bathroom." He added, accusingly. "Like, **_anywhere_**. I'm not doing this without it. No chance. Lots."

Derek nodded, eyes flickering between control and the bright, stunning blue that made Stiles want to… do things he wasn't going to do unless there was a **_lot_** of lubrication. Fact.

Stiles wasn't sure what he should be more impressed with, the fact that Derek managed to get him out of the shower and pressed into the mattress within 5 seconds, or the fact that he'd managed it without removing his fingers from inside Stiles.

The lube, it turned out, was in a small black bag inside the wardrobe, pushed right to the back. Derek looked… embarrassed as he pulled it out, while Stiles was just relieved. Derek brought the bag over, emptying the contents on the bed. Lube, **_lots_** of lube – which was good. Condoms in black wrappers with a white wolf on the foil. White Wolf condoms – **_Jesus_**. They were made specifically for Others. Pretty much unbreakable, Stiles had watched the video on youtube when they'd shown just how strong they were. Nothing got through those fuckers.

It took a few seconds for Stiles to register the sudden, jerky movements – one moment he was sitting on the bed, the next he was face first in the mattress and Derek was pressed up against his back. His heart skipped a beat, then another, before blood started pounding through his ears and all he could see was the dark red descend over his vision. The rip of foil sounded obscenely loud, and the pop of a bottle cap echoed in his ears moments before the cool liquid covered his skin and Derek pushed the head of his cock against Stiles ass.

It hurt. It should have hurt a **_lot_** more than it did though, Stiles was aware as he hissed into the mattress. Derek was growling, sharp nails pressing into the skin of Stiles hips as he pushed forward, not stopping until he was fully inside. Stiles wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't the reassuring rub to the base of his spine, nor the soft purr-like growl that Stiles remembered from before. Comforting, reassuring.

After a few moments, Stiles became aware that Derek wasn't moving – the pain was gone, forgotten – he needed something more. Stiles let out a growl, pulling away before pushing back into Derek's hips. The pressure was enough to have his cock, limp from the shock of penetration; start to throb back to life.

Derek took the cue, gripping Stiles hips and starting a slow, shallow rhythm that had Stiles emitting a steady half moan in the back of his throat. It wasn't enough – wasn't fast enough, or hard enough – but when Stiles tried to move, Derek just held him in place.

After a few minutes of the best kind of torture, Stiles was starting to lose his mind. "Derek, please!" He tried to say, but his voice was just growls and moans. His cock was hard, harder than he'd even been in his life – but he was never going to get off on the pace Derek was setting. He needed **_more_**.

Derek seemed to sense this need, and pulled back so far the head of his cock almost left Stiles completely, before he slid back. He had added more lube, slick and easy – and when his hips were pushed hard against Stiles, he rocked forward. The feral growl that was ripped from Stiles was like a match to paper – Derek repeated the action pulling out and pushing back, until Stiles was clawing at the mattress, nails digging into the bedding and a guttural growl in his throat.

Derek, who had been using his grip on Stiles hips as leverage, leaned forward and pulled Stiles body away from the mattress he'd been pressed into, before grabbing his shoulders and snapping his hips forward. Almost upright, the change of angle hit every nerve Stiles had, he let out a desperate whine, hand gripping at his cock and pulling franticly as Derek – using hard, fast motions – fucked him till he howled. Seconds before he came, Derek thrust forward grabbing Stiles neck and sinking his teeth into the skin of Stiles shoulder. Pain mixed with the most intense pleasure rocked his body, he felt Derek shudder and buck before he lost all control and pumped his cock franticly before coming over the ruined bed.

He collapsed forward, Derek still riding out the last of his own orgasm for a few seconds before pulling out with a wet pop and rolling over – taking Stiles with him.

* * *

Turned out that once Derek got his cock in Stiles **_once_**, he wanted to do it again. And again. And again. The recovery time was almost non-existent and at one point Derek just stayed hard for **_hours_**. No ache, no pain – no uncomfortable sitting positions – nearly 24 hours of nothing but Derek and Stiles. They ran out of condoms within the first couple of hours – luckily since they weren't waiting long enough for the lube to dry out, **_that_** lasted longer. Not long enough though, and spit just wasn't cutting it.

So Stiles was sitting on the floor, watching as Derek got dressed. He had a bite-mark on his neck that Stiles was stupidly pleased to see wasn't healing like the others – he knew if he ran his hand over the mark Derek would be hard within moments. He grinned.

"Don't go anywhere." Derek warned, pointing at him. "Stay."

"Bite me." Stiles said, stretching his well used muscles. "I'll do what I like."

* * *

Turned out that what Stiles 'liked' was to pass out with exhaustion almost as soon as Derek left, curled on the floor with his damp hair and a pair of Derek's jeans pulled on to keep him warm. He would have crawled on the bed, but they would probably need to replace the mattress. Stiles had felt bad for the sheets – but Derek had ripped through to the springs when Stiles had been practising his blow-job technique. Judging by the state of the bed, he was pretty sure he'd not been half bad.

* * *

"Mr Stilinski?" Gibson's voice worked its way through Stiles desire to sleep for the next…. Oh, year or so. "Are you well?"

"M'fine." He muttered, blinking awake. "Fine."

"I've brought you some food."

Stiles snapped up instantly. Food. The smell hit him like a truck, and he launched himself at the platter, looked like they'd emptied the whole kitchen for this, and he was ripping into the steak with his teeth when he heard the polite cough, "For Mr Derek as well."

"Make more." Stiles swallowed. "This is mine."

"Yes sir." Gibson nodded. "Glad to see you are feeling better."

"Feeling hungry." Stiles agreed, stuffing more in his mouth. "S'good. Fanks."

"When you are finished, Miss Sarah is… talking."

Stiles swallowed and looked at Gibson before nodding slowly. "Okay." He managed.

* * *

She cried for a good hour, snuffling and sobbing into Stiles green checked shirt, while Stiles just rocked her back and forth. She told him about the emails, and about how she thought Kevin as the one, and how sorry she was. She kept touching his face and crying even harder when he shook his head when she had asked if his eye was getting better. He'd figured it had gotten as good as it was going to get. He could still see, and the milky film that had covered it was gone, but his vision was still blurred and fuzzy.

He'd gone back to his shared room, grabbing all his clothes and '**_Doing an Isaac'_** as Erica had called it – hoped Derek didn't mind that he'd just taken over half his wardrobe space.

He asked Sarah if she thought he'd mind, and her look was… amused… for the first time since Stiles had gone through to see her.

"Why would he mind?" She asked, smiling. "He's only been trying to keep you in his room since you came here."

"Bit different to moving in though."

"Not to Derek." She said, head on his chest and arms wrapped around his chest. "Trust me."

* * *

In fact, when Stiles finally left Sarah sleeping in her room, Derek had not only sorted the clothes in the wardrobe, he'd made space in all three of the drawers as well, and a space in the bathroom.

All three drawers in the bedside cabinet were full of bottles of lubricant. No condoms though – Derek had just shrugged and pulled Stiles closer on the brand new mattress.

* * *

"Jesus, Stiles," Derek grumbled. "Let it go."

"Um…. Let me think about that for a moment…." Stiles said, tapping his finger against his teeth. "No."

"It's…. complicated."

"Does it have something to do with the whole 'mates' thing?" He asked, calmly. Derek snapped his head around and glared at him from the desk. Then at the computer. Then at Stiles again.

"I looked it up. Turns out there is a whole 'nother wiki that's just chock full of interesting information that would have come in handy to know." Stuff like witches and shape shifters and **_Mates_**. Oh, the mates part was **_very_** interesting.

"And?" Derek said, looking... oddly nervous.

"And I would have liked to hear it from you." Stiles shrugged.

"You aren't…" Derek waved a hand.

"Pissed? Annoyed? Ready to punch you in your stupid thick skull?" Stiles supplied in a helpful, bright tone. "I was. But then… hell, it's not like I can do anything about it."

Which was true. He had no say. It was like... fate, or biology – either one really – and Stiles had no other options. He didn't really **_want_** any other options. That wasn't the point.

"I didn't think you'd get sick right away." Derek mumbled, turning back to the computer, neck and ears red. It had taken a few days for Stiles to figure out Derek and his dark looks and red ears. Mostly, it seemed, he was just unsure. That was fine. Stiles was normally 100% sure in **_everything_** he did.

Turned out that Omegas, aside from the uncontrollable need to sex it up 24/7 (That Derek was **_totally_** taking advantage of, Stiles just knew) had the short end of the stick when it came to mating. Your mate was the one. The big one – the love of your life, no one else, ever. If Derek died, Stiles was fucked. Or not, as it turned out – he'd be unable to get it on with another person as long as he lived. Only he – as the Omega – needed to be around his mate, needed contact and together time or he'd get sick. So when Derek left to go off to the super secret '_woops we just killed a whole pack_' meeting, Stiles had gotten what WolfWiki referred to as 'MoonSickness' and it could kill you.

"Yeah, well. You could have told me right at the start along with the Cancer thing and I'd have been okay."

"I didn't **_know_** that."

"Well if you'd have told me, you'd have known."

"I was going to take the chance of you not accepting the bite."

"You could have told me after." Stiles countered. Derek didn't reply. He did that a lot, when Stiles was right and he didn't want to have to deal with that. He smirked at the back of Derek's head and climbed off the bed. "I'm going to see if I can find Isaac or Sarah." He grinned. "Come find me when you're finished your paper and you can show me how sorry you are for not trusting me."

He didn't make it out the room.

* * *

**_Stiles and Derek sitting up a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G_**

**_Did I mention I love Sterek? Like I really, really love Sterek? And Peter? And TeenWolf in general?_**

**_I know a lot of people are freaking out over my 'one or two chapters to go' thing, but I hope you aren't worried that I'd just leave a half finished story or anything like that, I have a plan, its working as intended! _**

**_In other news: OMG. OMG OMG OMG. I was not prepared for Castiel. I thought I was. I wasn't. HOLY HELL IN A HANDBASKET - What the actual FUCK? His voice. HIS VOICE! /swooning_**


	21. The Last Goodbye

Erica grabbed him by the ankle and flipped him neatly on his back, before grabbing a handful of snow and stuffing it down his shirt. By the time he got back on his feet, she was already tearing over the wide expanse of grass towards Isaac – his snow fort already destroyed by Sarah.

"Taking casualties!" Isaac howled, before being jumped by Erica. While in mid-air, Stiles hastily thrown snowball landed perfect centre – hitting the back of her blond curls and exploding into white flakes. He was starting to get used to his wonky vision – left eye never really healing right.

The snow had fallen overnight, a proper blizzard that wasn't expected and whited out everything. Sarah had suggested they build snowmen – the army of misshapen sentinels lined the driveway, before Erica smacked Stiles on the back of the head with a soft snowball, running full speed behind the house.

"Take one for the team!" Stiles called out, before a wet splat hit him dead on the jaw, filling his mouth with cold snow and making him splutter and cough.

"Yeah, Stiles," Sarah laughed – a proper laugh that had taken weeks to coax – "Take one for the team!"

It descended into a cold, damp wrestling match after that, no one even bothering to make balls, just grabbing handfuls of snow and covering each other – Isaac was getting the worst of it though, he was already soaking wet when strong hands pulled them apart, laughing and shoving even as Peter tisked at them.

"This is how you behave with guests in the house?" He reprimanded, brushing snow from Isaacs curls.

"Just us here, Peter." Sarah said, air around her mouth steaming with her breath.

"You'll go upstairs and dry off," He said, mostly to Isaac, but Stiles understood he meant them all. "We have guests and I expect you all to look at least **_half_** presentable." Which was **_totally_** meant for Stiles. Peter hated the way he dressed. So did Derek – well… Derek hated the fact that he got **_dressed_**, the man would quite happily keep Stiles naked and tied to the bed.

"What guests?" Sarah said, startled. Not so much fear though, as last time. There had been a lot of guests. Hard looking men in suits and long meetings. They were all interviewed, made to go over the fighting and talk about everything they knew about the lead-up to the attack.

They asked about everything, read personal emails from Sarah mentioning him… and then as though something had just clicked, they stopped. Kevin's pack were gone, all of them – it was like they never existed. No one mentioned it on the news – no reporters or online news blogs, **_nothing_**. Stiles was slightly freaked out that they could just make people disappear.

"Who?" Erica asked, eyes shining. Her transformation was complete, she was twice as strong as Isaac and Stiles – faster than even Peter and Derek who took them running in the woods – but struggling all the time to keep control. She spent a lot of time with Laura who was the only one who could keep her in check.

"Some old friends of mine from New York." Peter shrugged. "I was hoping that I'd be able to introduce them to Isaac, but look at this," He said, holding up a damp curl. "Terrible."

"I can fix it." Isaac rushed, and it just showed Stiles how **_different_** they are were. Isaac had a desperate need to please Peter all the time, did nothing he didn't like – dressed how he was told, did anything the older man asked him to do… and loved it. You could tell he loved it, from the way he changed his whole body language and his eyes and that stupid self-satisfied grin. Erica had her temper and her constant drive to prove herself better than everyone. And then there was him. Derek lost his temper a lot with him, because Derek wanted someone like Isaac and he ended up with Stiles, who didn't do a damn thing unless he wanted to do it. Who argued back and slammed doors and drove Derek up the wall until he snapped – angry sex was the best.

He'd talked to Isaac a lot about sex, because Derek didn't **_ever_** talk about it. Isaac knew a lot more than Stiles, because Peter wasn't verbally handicapped, and he was more than willing to share the information with Stiles. They talked about blow-jobs and bottoming (Peter and Derek topped all the time, Stiles wasn't sure if it was a power play or just what they liked) but the biggest thing Stiles had learned was that Isaac was… well... totally submissive. Peter wanted, Peter got.

Derek wanted, Derek could damn well wait till Stiles was finished doing whatever he was doing. And no matter what, Stiles called the shots. He might be the bottom, but he sure as hell wasn't going to be the bitch.

* * *

Peters friends were… well – a lot like Peter. They were all **_very_** fond of Isaac, at least, who was fitting in well in his black suit and bottle green skinny tie. His sandy blond curls were styled messily and he looked… well, he looked a lot like Ricardo, the young 'companion' that Peter's oldest and best friend, Louis, had brought. Prettier though, Stiles thought proudly, Isaac was **_much_** prettier – and the stuck up little shit from New York seemed more than aware of that. He was sitting in the corner, pouting and glaring as Isaac lounged at Peters side, the older men occasionally throwing him sly looks.

Stiles grinned. Poor Ricardo – he'd thought Stiles was his competition at first, going on the sneer that had he had thrown him as he brushed Stiles greeting aside with. Yeah, so although Stiles was wearing his funeral suit – he'd put his bright red converse on, and his flash t-shirt under his suit jacket. He thought he looked awesome. Ricardo didn't. Poor guy preened about for a good half an hour before Isaac wandered in, all suited and styled, with Erica and Sarah on each side. Then he'd gone a really dangerous shade of jealous.

It was actually a pretty fun crowd, for all they dressed like gangsters and talked like… Peter. They were happy and laughed and there was no difficult silences, a few puffing on large cigars and acting like they had all the time in the world.

They had brought a few younger wolves too – like Ricardo, who was a Beta and not an Omega like Stiles had originally thought (go figure) – three guys about their age, maybe older, who were currently crowding Erica against the wall with primal grins. When one of them sailed overhead and crashed into the sofa, Erica shrugged a silk clad shoulder and smiled. The older men laughed and shook their heads.

"Poor boys, you'll learn." Louis grinned at Peter. "She's just like Cara, no? Wild." He waved a hand at the guy picking himself up from the floor with an indulgent smile. "We tell them all the time, yes? Nothing more dangerous than a beautiful female. She'll rip your heart out of your throat." He nodded. "I hear you did that."

"Only once." Erica said, trying to look demure and failing, much to the uproar of laughter in the room and enthusiastic clapping. Yeah, they liked Erica.

They had brought another Beta though, who was standing beside Stiles and watching Sarah, who was in conversation with her aunt and another female wolf. He was talking to Stiles with a heavy Irish accent about the current weather, eyes never leaving the girl – Sarah hadn't even looked in their direction.

"You should see it now, though, inches thick, so it is." He said, trying to pull his eyes away from Sarah. "Me sister took me skating in the park."

"Yeah? I've never been." Stiles smiled, looking at the Beta. He was tall, just about as tall as Isaac, with jet black hair and bright green eyes that twinkled. Good looking, with the kind of body shape Stiles wished he'd been blessed with. He was wearing a suit, like everyone else, but – just like Stiles – he'd opted for the Robert Downey Jnr look and had a t-shirt instead of a shirt and tie. Stiles liked him already, mostly because the shirt was the Green Lantern. "I bet you're always doing stuff like that." He added. "Not much to do around here, we mostly spend out days just gaming."

He remembered Patrick. How he was the one Laura and Peter thought would be a good match for Sarah. Only now Sarah was aware of this, because of all the interviews and meetings – and Patrick had no chance of getting anywhere near her now. Sarah had flat out refused to even talk to him. Poor guy.

"You game?" Patrick asked, looking at Stiles for the first time really.

"Well, duh, dude. Look at me!" Stiles grinned. "I'm an 85 hunter and just dinged 90 on my boomkin."

"Horde?"

"Alliance."

"I've got me a 90 combat rogue." He grinned, pulling Stiles back from the group who were already rolling their eyes. "Undead."

"Sweet!" Stiles nodded. "What do you think of the Panda pack, then?"

* * *

About 5 hours later, and half way through the massive meal that was put on, Stiles had a new best friend.

"Dude, if it doesn't work out with Derek, we are getting married." He enthused, using his fork to steal the last of Derek's parsnips and ignoring the way Derek's hand, previously relaxed on his leg suddenly gripped. "What happens on Nar Shadaa stays in Nar Shadaa."

"To be sure." Patrick nodded, mouth full of steak. "But I would never cheat on Corso."

"Well, duh, the dudes hot as hell – that what you're playing now?"

"I'm working on a Sith warrior right now." Patrick said, swallowing. "Can't get off Taris."

Stiles was ignoring the press of Derek's hand on his leg, because Derek had no clue what they were talking about and was worried Stiles might have been serious. "I love Taris. Me and Sarah are doing to bonus missions right now on our Hunter and Imp." He added. "I'm the Imp, obviously."

"How you liking it?" Patrick asked, not looking at Sarah, who had, for the millionth time looked like she wanted to join in the conversation. "You've got the cover of the Smuggler, right?"

* * *

Patrick was awesome – awesome and **_smart_** – because when he'd been forlornly staring at Sarah across the room, she'd ignored him solidly. Now he was ignoring her, and completely focused on Stiles (much to Derek's annoyance) and she was desperately wanting to join the conversation. Every time Stiles would brush of a game she loved, like Guildwars, and Patrick would try to defend it, she looked ready to burst. And **_still_** Patrick completely ignored her. Smart lad.

The meal was over, and the 'adults' were settling down in the much more relaxed family room. Stiles produced a couple of board games from under the couch where he and Sarah had stashed them and Patrick, Isaac and himself were in the middle of an incredibly rowdy game of Scrabble.

"Dude, that's not a word!" Stiles argued, punching Isaac in the ribs. "Urban dictionary doesn't count!"

"Neither is LEET." Sarah commented from the couch behind them. Stiles turned, grinning. It was the first time she'd spoken to Stiles since he'd become seriously in friend-love with Patrick.

"You no play-a the game," He said, in a thick over the top Italian accent. "You no make-a the rules." He pointed to Patrick. "Two of us versus one of him." He pointed to Isaac. "We win."

* * *

Derek wasn't impressed when Stiles finally crawled into bed. He'd ended up playing Uno, of all things, with Isaac, Patrick, Gabe (one of the betas who was only playing because Erica was), Erica and Sarah. They'd been happy and hyper, supplied with snacks and soft drinks all night. It was only when Gibson came in and told Isaac that Mr Peter had been expecting him upstairs for the last hour, that they even noticed the time.

Stiles knew Derek was pissed, because he was pretending to sleep – but his shoulders were tight and his body still firm. When he was **_actually_** asleep, Derek was snugly and soft and made little pleased huffy noises when Stiles cuddled up. Stiles shrugged and turned, back to the Beta, and waited.

"Patrick is only here to see **_Sarah_**." Derek finally said. "Not to spend all night talking to you."

"I like him."

"I could tell." Derek snapped. "**_Everyone_** could tell."

"The last time a guy liked Sarah I went blind on one eye." He said, voice calm. "Pretty sure I don't need to worry about that this time."

"Not if he thinks you're more than willing to fuck him."

"Yeah, he **_wants_** me." Stiles mocked. "He pretty much told me as much when he kicked my ass at Clue."

"I don't think it's funny." The wolf bit off, turning in the bed and glaring at the back of Stiles head.

"I think it is." Stiles shrugged. "I'm going to sleep, where I'll dream of a world where the **_idiot_** I'm in love with actually understands the difference between romance and bromance."

* * *

He woke up with Derek still pressed hard against his back. He'd only just started to drift off when Derek pulled him close and muttered something in his ear. He wasn't exactly sure what he was saying – because Derek hated apologising and made sure half his words were lost in snuffles and hot kisses – but he heard 'Sorry' and 'idiot' and something about trust, so he was quite happy to lean over after a few minutes and grab one of the bottles from the bedside drawers.

The bedroom door was opening, slowly – trying obviously hard not to wake them.

"He'll sleep like the dead." Stiles said, pulling away from Derek, who rolled over into the space Stiles had left and pushed his face into the pillow. "You okay?"

It was Sarah, looking flushed and a bit pink. "I thought you might be sleeping." She said guilty.

"I woke up before you tried to sneak in." He said, shrugging. He no longer felt uncomfortable with being naked, and slipped out of bed, picking up his sleeping pants from where Derek had thrown them and pulling them on. "You okay?"

"I wasn't **_sneaking_**." She hissed. "I just didn't want to wake you."

"Because you desperately wanted to borrow a book at 5am in the morning?"

"Because I need to borrow… I need… umm…" She trailed off. Stiles sniffed the air, sure, it was heavy with the smell of Derek and really, really hot sex – but there was also the smell of really, really hot sex that wasn't coming from **_him_**.

"Lube?"

"Condoms!" She flushed. "Just tell me if you have some."

"Nope." Stiles shrugged. "No chance of little baby wolves in this bedroom." He pointed out. "Don't need em. Have you asked Erica? I think she's taking out shares in White Wolf, the amount of them she's going through."

"She's still awake." Sarah blushed. "She's got **_both_** those Betas and I'm not going through there to ask."

"Want me to go through?"

"Would you?" she asked. Hard to think this girl grew up in the same house as 'Peter _- Let's fuck anywhere_ – Hale'.

"Chicken." He grinned at her as he walked past. She punched his arm.

* * *

Erica was still awake. And **_extremely_** flexible, apparently – as Stiles knocked and opened the door without awaiting a reply.

"You got any spare White Wolfs?" He asked, glancing around at the floor – littered with foils.

"What do **_you_** need em for?" Erica asked, arching an eyebrow. Gabe was glaring, paused mid thrust, the other Beta with his hands gripping the headboard.

"I'm gonna make balloon animals with them." Stiles shrugged. "Have you got any?"

"I'm going to need them." She pouted. "You don't even use them."

"They aren't for me, idiot." Stiles laughed. "Sarah doesn't want to see whatever the hell kind of kama sutra poses you've got going on."

"Sarah?"

"Yup."

"Top drawer." Erica said. "Take the box."

"We're going to need them." Gabe half whined.

"I've got enough for your whole pack." Erica smirked. "If you think you can last that long."

* * *

Two days later the New York pack left. Well, most of them. Gabe stayed, which no one expected, and Patrick stayed, which **_everyone_** expected.

* * *

Gabe, it turned out, was the son of the Kildranoch Alpha, and was more than strong enough to keep up with Erica. After a month or so of knocking heads as well as boots, they settled into a pretty solid routine. Erica was allowed to leave for New York when Laura went, Stiles and Isaac still under house arrest.

Well… **_Isaac_** was still under house arrest because he still lashed out without thinking. Stiles went home and had dinner with his dad once a week, after a pretty awkward conversation with his dad about Derek. Sometimes Sarah or Patrick would come, which was great – because they were mostly normal and didn't just sit silently through the meal like any moment his dad was going to pull out a gun and shoot them. Which was what Derek did.

* * *

Others didn't get married. They just sort of promised never to screw around, under the full moon. It wasn't a big deal, really. Not to Stiles.

Apparently it meant a bit more to Derek though, because not long after they'd stood under the moon and promised not to sleep with other people, the Beta had moved their relationship from 'snuggles in bed' to 'snuggles wherever'. Stiles favourite was snuggles on the couch, watching TV in the games room. Derek's favourite was cuddling while reading. Nothing else changed, not even **_years_**later. They still had arguments and if Stiles slept on the floor to prove a point, he woke up in bed warm and safe, with strong arms wrapped around him and huffs of warm air on his neck – words of apology lost in the hot kisses.

It was a pretty good life.

* * *

**_The End_**

* * *

**_I want to say a huge 'THANK YOU' to everyone who read this story, who followed and reviewed and supported me. I've adored all your comments and notes - I would like to give an extra special Thank You to those who kind of understand what its like to have another story burning in your mind while trying to finish off the one you are writing - I've been in HELL ;)_**

**_For those who've been following me since I start '_**_Out Of Milk_**_' I hope you stick around to read '_**_Haven't Thought Of A Title Or A Plot Yet_**_' - my new story that I'll start... this week at some point._**

**_I think._**

* * *

**_Once again,_**

**_Thank You. It means more to me than you might know._**

**_-74days_**


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